For Pleasure, For Pain
by MercerSPN
Summary: They look for humans, but treat them like animals. They sell their bodies for money... but only the ones that are most desirable. They pick the ones that are able. To these people,Sam was just what they were looking for...
1. Chapter 1

_Title_: For Pleasure, For Pain

_Author_: MercerSPN

_Author's Note_: This is my first multi-chaptered story for Supernatural. Been a fan forever, though. Hope you enjoy it!

_Summary_: They look for one's that'll make them the most money. The one's that have the potential to handle their line of business. They look for humans, but treat them like animals.

_Warning_: Will have sexual content. Nothing too graphic, though. Just enough to get the point across and then some. A lot of description.

(Sam's 18 , Dean's 22)

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**Chapter 1 :**

In the middle of the night, winding roads seemed endless. The moon high overhead like a spotlight on the Impala. It's headlights on low, barely making a dent in the thick darkness. Keeping his hands steady, Dean controlled the car at a pleasant 20 miles per hour. They weren't in a rush. They were simply enjoying the ride into Detroit.

Sam's tired eyes shifted onto the clock. The numbers illuminated in deep yellow read 12:08 a.m. Just after midnight. They've been driving since about two o'clock this afternoon, only stopping at drive-thus and gas stations when necessary. Both boys had been unusually quite for a number of hours. Sure, every once in a while, Dean hummed to the radio, but still. There wasn't any tension, though. No, they weren't angry. They were simply enjoying the ride into Detroit.

From the corner of his eye, Dean looked over at Sam. He rested his head on the window, twiddling his thumbs on his lap. Even in this light, Dean noticed his brother yawn. Letting go of the wheel with one hand, he tapped Sam's shoulder. Sam lifted his head and looked over at Dean.

"You wanna stop?"

Sam shrugged. "How far till the next town?"

Dean gestured with his head for Sam to get the map out of the glove compartment. Slowly, Sam unfolded the large paper, yawning again in the process. He folded back the bottom part, knowing they were where near Michigan. "Where exactly are we?"

For a second, Dean thought. "Somewhere between Dayton and Bayville."

Sam traced the paper with his fingernail, stopping on Dayton, Ohio. "I dunno," Sam clears his throat and looks down at the key on the bottom right-hand side of the map. "Looks like 20 to 30 miles until we're at another town."

Nodding, Dean picked up the speed a little. "Fine, we'll find a motel there. You're tired."

Sam didn't even bother to put the map back in where he'd found it. He simply let it slip out of his hands as his head was reconnected with the glass passenger seat window. Over the hum of the engine, Dean heard Sam sigh slightly as his breath evened out and slowed. Looking over, Dean arched an eyebrow.

"Yeah, you're definitely tired."

Cranking his neck, Dean increased his speed by another five miles per hour. They'd be in the next town in no time.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

"One room, two beds, please," Dean says to the elderly woman at the check-in desk. She looks tired also and is carrying one hell of an attitude on her face. She licks her lips, holding her hand out. Dean hands her his card and signs his name. The woman rolls her eyes slightly, walking in the back for a second. Moments later, she's back with a key and Dean's card. She doesn't even bother to hand it back, she just flops them both down on the table and walks away. Dean sucks his teeth, giving her the middle finger. Shaking his head, he walks back out to the car to where Sam's sleeping.

Knocking on the window, Dean calls, "Rise and shine Sleeping Beauty."

Pulling the heavy Impala door open, Dean shakes Sam's shoulder. "C'mon, we're at the motel."

Sam groans, waking up slowly. His eyes dart around at the halfway empty parking lot. It seems like there's a car in every-other parking spot, something only he would notice. Stretching his arms, Sam yawns again. He exit's the car and heads to the trunk to help Dean with the bags. Once he's about five feet away, Dean throws two duffel bags at him. Still tired, Sam doesn't react quick enough. They slam against his chest, and fall to the wet cement.

"Sam, come on," scolds the older brother when his bag begins to soak up the water from the puddle it just fell into. Sam simply shrugs.

"Stop throwing shit around," was his only reply as he took both bags by the handle and hoisted them into the room.

Dean followed Sam close behind after slamming the trunk closed. They entered the room. Sam lets go of the bags right at the entrance. Dean almost didn't see them, stumbling over his already damp bag. Reaching for the wall for support, Dean kicked Sam's bag a few feet. Sam doesn't even acknowledge Dean's struggles. He'd already collapsed onto the bed furthers from the door, claiming it. He lay face down in the center of the bed, his nose buried into the sheet.

"You're gonna suffocate yourself if you sleep like that," Dean warned, removing his leather jacket and tossing it on the hook behind the door. Taking another glance at his brother, Dean saw that Sam has moved to the top of the bed, his head resting on the pillow now. Shaking his head, he smiled, remember how Sam used to act the same way when he was younger.

Some things never change, he guessed.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Damien was sure he'd hit the jackpot with this one. Two guys, one had short-cut hair and wore a leather jacket. He had a look to him that just screamed 'fuck off.' He drove a beautiful car. An Impala, it looked like. But the car wasn't the only thing that caught Damien's eye. It was who was accompanying the guy. He was young… no younger than seventeen or so; but there was something about him that was mature. The first time Damien took notice of him, he was sleeping in the passenger seat of the car.

Five cars over is where Damien was stationed, just watching. That's his job; and he does it well. He's the one that finds people. He sits in places for hours, just looking for the right one. Over the years of being in this business, he's learned how to read people. He could write you a paragraph about someone just by studying them for five minutes. It was a gift.

He watched as the older guy went into the check in room.

To be honest, Damien thought about taking the kid right then and there. But something told him no. Not there. It was too easy. Damien liked a challenge every once in a while. Even though this kid was a little on the scrawny side, there was something about him that told Damien he'd put up one hell of a fight.

It took about five minutes for the guys to enter the room. Damien got out of his four-door red truck to get a closer look. Slowly, he approached the window, keeping his distance, though. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he saw their actions clear as day. The younger boy was planted on the bed, facedown. Damien licked his lips, cranking his neck a little. The older one was talking, moving around the room.

Damien kept his eyes on the younger one, though. He thought about how proud Nick, his boss, would be. He watches as the boy pushes himself up onto all fours and crawls to the top of the bed before flopping down again. This time he doesn't close his eyes all the way, he's watching the other guy as he unpacks some things from their bag. For a minute, Damien thought he'd been spotted, but he wasn't.

It was apparent that they were going to stay there for at least a night, so Damien headed back to his truck and sat in it. He started the car and moved to a parking space that was at a perfect angle to look inside the room the two guys shared. He cut off the ignition and all the lights inside the car. He sat in complete darkness as he watched the two figures in the motel.

The type of business Damien and his associates were in took a lot a patience… and a lot of sedatives. Sometime it took them weeks to find one that fit their standards. They look for one's that'll make them the most money. The one's that have the potential to handle they're line of business. The one's that are figured to be the most desired by their buyers. They look for humans, but treat them like animals. That's what they are to Damien and his partners. They're nothing but animals used to make them the most money possible.

Focusing back on the two guys in the room, Damien thought about the praise he was going to get for reeling in someone like him. He was young…he was able. Able to handle the needs of the buyers he'd have chasing after him. He had a toughness about him, something that was also a turn on. And to say the least, he was very good looking… Damien took a deep breath, calming himself.

He looked up at the younger one again, watching him even closer, studying him; and the only word that came to mind was _perfect_.

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So what'cha think? Please let me know. Reviews make me smile (:


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: _Thanks so much for the reviews on the first chapter! I'm glad you guys enjoyed it. Please keep them coming. I'd like to see how you're liking or disliking the story, whatever you feel. In this chapter you'll really get the feel of the story so you can see what the rest is going to be about. Hope you enjoy it!

_Warning:_ See Chapter 1.

* * *

**Chapter 2 :**

Damien stayed posted outside of the motel room until way after the guy with the short hair closed the blinds and cut off the lights. In his truck, Damien rubbed his forehead, plotting how he'd take the younger one. From what he saw, the two guys are never out of each other's sight for more than thirty minutes ; and that's just when they're taking a shower. Damien sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought.

Maybe he'd need back up? Leo, his other partner, wasn't too far away. A couple of blocks, maybe. He was posted on the other side of town trying to find someone also. See, Nick, the one who's pretty much in charge of everything, is on a real hunt lately. He wants more people and he wants them now. 'I need more money. I need people that will make me more money.' Damien remembered Nick saying a day or so ago. And what Nick said, went. He sent just about five people out to roam the city, looking for the perfect people. The ones to be wanted.

Jumping a little, Damien reached for his vibrating phone is in his pocket. He fumbled around, pushing past a wad of money and a past the small white bag of heroin , to reach it. He pressed he call button as he put the phone to his ear.

"Yeah?"

"Damien, what'd you got?"

It was Nick. His voice was deep, full of authority. He cleared his throat, waiting for Damien to answer. He smiled.

"I've got a real good one, Nick. You're gonna love it."

"Yeah?"

Damien could hear the eagerness in Nick's voice, he loved a good catch. Not just for the buyers, either, for himself, too. Nick owned whoever was brought to him. He was the one who put them up for sale and he's the one who told people which captives were off limits. Nick also enjoyed them, too. Just like the buyers that came to their warehouse, looking for a good time and a good buy. Nick bought and sold people on a daily basis, keeping tabs on everyone. This was his business. This is what he does.

"Male or female?"

"Male. Young, too. Good looking. Very good looking. He's gonna make us a lot of money, I promise. Everybody's gonna be asking for him. You're gonna wanna keep him all to yourself. He's a winner." Damien smiled, thinking about how he'd like to get his hands on him, too. This one wasn't something to just pass up.

Nick laughed.

"Amazing, amazing. When're you going to take him? I wanna get a spot ready. You know, clear some chains and maybe a bed."

Damien thought. "Early tomorrow morning, whenever I see an opening. He's with another guy… a little older. You know, a real bas-ass looking type. I dunno about him, though. He's not really our style. Not really want the buyers are into."

"So how're you gonna do this?"

"I'm gonna call Leo in a few, see where he's at and what he's got. I might need some help."

Nick sucked his teeth. "Help? You said he's young, Damien. How much help do you need?"

Shrugging, Damien says, "Not sure. Kid looks kinda tough, though. Looks like he's got a lot of fight in him. Not to mention the guy that he's with. They're always together, like they're attached at the hip or something. I might need someone to hold him off while I snatch the kid, you know?"

There was dead silence for a while. Nick was thinking; probably debating on if he even wanted Damien to go through with this or not. It didn't take long to realize that he did. If this kid looked like Damien said he did, then Nick was sure he was going to be a real money maker, best seller if you will. That's not something you just pass by. Nick wasn't that stupid. He needed that kid.

"Yeah… alright… alright," he answers slowly. I'll give Leo the info, tell him where to meet you and everything."

"Thanks, Nick."

"No," Nick says back. "Thank _you _. I'm looking forward to this one…can't wait to get my hands on him."

Smiling, Damien feels honored, he feels accomplished. "I will not disappoint, boss."

"Better not."

Damien nods, going to press the button to end the call. He hears a voice just before he presses it.

"Oh, and Damien," Nick calls just before Damien hangs up.

Bringing the phone back up to his ear, Damien clears his throat. "Yeah?"

"I want him before noon. You understand me?"

Damien shifts in his car. "Get me Leo's help and you got a deal."

Nick chucked. He'd taught his workers well. "I'll get you Leo, without a doubt."

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Leo had arrived about an hour ago to find Damien sleeping in the front seat of his car. He banged on the window, watching him jump up, rubbing his eyes. Leo laughed.

"Damn it, Leo," Damien grunts, opening his car door. "Don't do that."

"Boss'll kill you if he found out you're sleeping on the job..."

Damien, shrugged. "I've been up for three days straight looking for the right one... I'm dead tired."

Leo disregarded him, walking over to the passenger seat. He entered the car.

"So... where's our new money supply?"

Damien gestured with his hand. "There. Room 28."

Leo nodded. "So when're we doing this?"

Looking down at his watch, Damien shrugged. "Nick said before noon he's gotta see him."

Leo's face scrunched. "I say we do it before ten...that'll make him happy. Early delivery."

Damien sighed. "I know, we've gotta get a move on."

Just then, Leo slapped Damien's shoulder. "Right there, right there," he announced, pointing through the windshield at the two men exiting the motel room.

"_Oh_." he says when he notices the younger of the two carrying a duffel bag over his shoulder. He keeps his eyes on the floor, his chestnut colored hair being pushed to the side by the increasing wind. He wore a brown jacket and a green hoodie under it. Leo studied him closer. Damien was right. He was young. Couldn't have been younger than seventeen or eighteen, out of high school, probably. He was on the tallish side for someone of his age. He was lanky, fit. He licked his lips. "Yeah... he's good. Really good."

Damien shrugged.

"Told'ya. But look, see him? Yeah... I don't know what they're connection is, but they're always together." Damien shifted his finger until it was pointing at Dean.

Leo smirked. "He doesn't look like someone you wanna fuck with, you know?"

"Yeah... exactly why I needed you. I think we're gonna have to fight him to get to the little one."

"They both look like they can fight," Leo observed, scratching the side of his head. He digs into his back pocket, taking out two black masks. He hands one to Damien.

Damien takes it, pulling it over his head. "Let's do this."

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

It was still dark outside, early in the morning. Just after five o'clock. Leo and Damien stayed low in the truck, waiting for the perfect opportunity. They were going to grab the boy when he was in the passenger seat, waiting for the older on to hand back the key and check out... but there was too many people. The woman was right there. Sure she was old, but you never know who else is watching...

"Dude, lets do it now." Leo suggests. He doesn't care about the woman or whoever might witness this. He just didn't care.

Damien shook his head. "Leo-"

Leo slammed his hand on the dashboard. "Damien, look at this. He's sitting... _alone_... in the car! This is as easy as it's gonna get."

Bowing his head so that it's touching the steering wheel, Damien nods. "You're right."

Damien starts the car and rolls slowly behind the Impala.

"Go, go, go," he says to Leo, watching him jump out of the truck. He didn't hesitate to jog up, jerking the car door open. The look on the boy's face was priceless, Leo was sure. He punched him across the face and was slightly surprised when the boy caught him in the stomach without hesitation. Leo stumbled back, pulling the boy out of the car with him.

"Sam!" came a call.

The older guy came running out of the check-in spot of the motel. He took a swing at the man who held his brother by the shirt but was tackled to the ground by another masked man who seemed to come out of no where. Damien fell on top of Dean, punching him hard. Blood, slid down the side of his lip, but he kept fighting though. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sam swinging at the man like no tomorrow.

In the background, the elderly woman was yelling, "What's happening? What should I do?" but no one was listening or focused enough to listen to her.

Leo hit Sam hard in his face, knocking him back on the Impala's hood. He put his hands out to break his fall when another hit was issued to the back of his head. He cried out. Leo took that as his only chance, he grabbed the boy by his hair and slammed his head against the car once... twice.. three times. Sam was dizzy... his eyes went blurry. He clutched his head.

Damien, still on the ground with Dean planted heavy punches to his torso. Dean kicked at him, flinging him backwards. He scrambled to his feet charging after him.

"I'm calling 911! I'll get help!" the elderly motel owner yelled reaching for the nearest phone.

Leo hammered Sam's head again into the car and a cracking sound was heard from the Impala denting under the force and pressure. Sam's knees buckled and he toppled forward completely off balance. He felt someone grabbing his midsection, lifting him off the ground.

"Damien!"

Leo tossed Sam into the back seat, quickly squirming to lock both doors.

Damien cocked his leg back, sending it directly into Dean's mouth. He was sent backwards mid-swing.

Running to the driver's seat, Damien pressed the gas pedal as hard as he could, tires skidding, as he exited the parking lot violently.

Just as they zoomed around the corner, the police could be heard approaching in the distance.

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So? Let me know what you think ! Please review (:


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: _Thanks so much for the support on the first two chapters. I wrote back to anyone who reviewed chapter 2 (: I hope I've gotten all of you! Hope you're enjoying the quick updates, too. Not sure how long they'll last lol Anyway, thanks so much, hope you stick with this story.

_Warning: _See Chapter 1 , there will be sexual content. Not too, _too_ graphic, just enough to get the point across. It's needed for the story, I promise. You'll understand when you read it.

* * *

**Chapter 3 :**

Cop cars with red and blue flashing lights flooded into the parking lot of the motel. Dean had lifted himself off the floor, holding the ice the elderly woman had given him against his lip. He stationed himself against the hood of his car, leaning on it. Dean felt his heart racing way past normal speed. He tapped his hand against the car, anxious. Worried. The woman approached the cops, her voice shaking in fear. This was all too much for her. She gestured to Dean with her hand, whispering, "That's him."

"Sir?" came a call. Dean looks over his shoulder, noticing two male cops and a female cop approaching him. "Sir, can you tell us what happened?"

Dean shook his head. "Sam..."

The taller male officer took out a writing pad from his back pocket. He wrote something down. "Sam? Who's Sam?"

Dean slammed his hand down on the car, making everyone jump a little. "My brother," he says through clenched teeth. "They took my brother and I couldn't stop it."

Standing, Dean walked to the driver's seat of his car and started it. The cops seemed to surround it like he was a criminal.

"Whoa, whoa, sir. You need to stay here. Sir! We need to take you statement."

They should have known Dean wasn't going to stop. He backed up in a hurry , screeching his tired to a halt, then took off out of the driveway. He remembered the truck going right, so that's the way he went, too.

He was getting Sam back; even if it kills him.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Damien pressed harder on the gas, keeping his eyes forward while Leo handled Sam.

"Shut up, kid," he commanded.

Sam still yelled. He knew it would do him no good. He knew that he probably shouldn't, it only made him look weak, but he couldn't do anything else right now. The doors were locked, no where to go. Sam was trapped, forced to go with these men to wherever they planned on going. Sam did all he could to remember the roads they took and in what direction. He would need it later.

"I said shut up!"

Leo landed his hand on the side of Sam's head, right over the temple, sending his head to the side. Sam was quiet. He looked back at him, fearlessness in his eyes.

Smiling, Damien looks in his rear-view mirror at Sam. "That's better."

"What'd you want?" Sam asked.

Both laughed.

"_Now_ he speaks."

Leo removed his mask, no longer feeling the need to hide his identity. They weren't planning on letting Sam go. He'd have no one to tell. Putting on leg over the arm rest and emergency break, he joined Sam in the back seat. He took hold of Sam's chin, lifting it some. He turns his head to the side, examining him. He nods.

"Yeah... everybody's gonna want you," Leo says softly. Sam jerks his head away, pushing himself back.

Leo smiles. "He's a feisty, ain't he, Damien?"

The driver, called Damien, looks over his shoulder for a second, nodding. "Yeah... he'll fight back. The buyer's'll eat that up, y'know."

"Especially if that's what they're into..." Leo added. He slid over, cornering Sam. Sam stiffened, not sure what he's doing or what he was planning.

Sam leans back. "What're you doing?" he questions in a soft voice, his eyes darting.

Leo is in his late twenties, and been in this business for a while now. A little over five years. In the beginning, he felt bad for the people he captured. The way they were used... the way they were were treated... the way they were taken advantage of... but as the years went on, he forced his heart to become colder. He told himself over and over again that he couldn't have that type of conscious. Not working with the type of people that he worked with. He remembered once, sometime in his first year, he saw a woman. She couldn't have been older than twenty-two. She was found somewhere by a college in Iowa. He'd seen her tied to a bed... some guy all over her while she cried. Leo remembered when the guy first walked in, he had a wad of money in his hand, said he was looking for someone good. Sometimes, if Leo closed his eyes, he can still her her scream... for months it haunted him. _He _put her there. _He _captured her. _He's _the reason she was taken advantage of over, and over, and over again.

But that's what he does. Those are the type of people he works for. They find and sell people like toys for whoever is perverted enough to buy.

'We don't sell people. You can't think of them as human once we take them; you just can't. We sell their bodies... we sell pleasure,' Nick had said to Leo a couple of years ago. And that's the words Leo has lived by for some time now. These aren't people anymore... if anything, they're animals.

It didn't take long for Leo to fall in love with the three perks that came with the job: drugs, sex, and money. Drugs were all around him... it was almost impossible not to fall into it. Sex... oh, the sex. Leo could take his pick out of anyone they captured. And that was their business. The sex business. Then there's the money. Leo and everyone he works with gets paid for the sex they sell from their captives. Wads and wads of money everyday. What else could he ask for?

Leo reached for Sam's front pocket, grabbing his wallet and cell phone before Sam even had a chance to react. He opened the wallet and took out the twenty-five dollars Sam had in there. He stuffed it in his own pocket. Then he tossed Sam's cellphone into the front seat, and watched it fall to the ground. Leo shrugged. "Wouldn't want you callin' anyone, would we?"

Sam didn't answer, Leo knew he wouldn't.

As Leo read Sam's school I.D, he smiled.

"Samuel," he says. "Samuel Winchester."

Damien chuckles. "Hope you don't like your name, Sammy. Cuz we're gonna change it."

"Nick'll name you when he meets you." Leo explained, stuffing the I.D and wallet in his pocket, too.

_Name me? _Sam thought. What the hell is about to happen to him?

"Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm Leonardo. Call me, Leo, though. That's Damien." Leo introduced them like they were someone Sam just met on the street or in school, not as his kidnappers planning to do God-knows-what to him. Sam looked away.

"What'd you want? Why'd you take me?"

They were both silent, slightly exchanging looks.

"What're you gonna do to me?" Sam asked, his eyes expanding a little.

Again, Leo scooted over a little, his hand rested on Sam's knee. Sam gulped, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

"_We're _not gonna do anything. Not unless Nick says it's okay. But other people" he smiles evilly."Let's just say... they'll do whatever they pay for."

Sam felt his jaw tighten. "Pay for?"

Leo shrugged. It was a nonchalant shrug. Obviously he's been though this before.

"... Like... buy me? You're gonna sell me?"

Damien could be seen nodding from the front seat.

"How 'bout you just let this all be a surprise, okay? I don't wanna give too much away. It's not as fun," Leo says. He pets the side of Sam's hair. Sam flinches, pushing Leo away.

The car could be felt drifting off to the side of the road and into woods.

"What the hell are you doing? Leo asked, leaning forward, clutching the back of Damien's seat.

Damien clears his throat, opening his car door. "You know what we have to do. Nick'll be pissed if we bring him in like that."

Leo exits the car, too, heading to the trunk.

Sam looked in the rear-view mirror until they were both out of sight. He took on three deep breath, and unlocked the door. He counted in his head. When he got to five, then jumped out of the car, running as fast as he could.

Sam was in the wind, his hair flying everywhere, his arms pumping. Behind him, he could hear yelling and footsteps chasing after him.

Before Sam knew it, he was tacked to the ground. He fell hard on his arm. He cried out, squeezing his eyes shut.

"You really didn't think you'd get away, did you?" Leo asked sarcastically, lifting him off the ground and back to Damien.

As they approached him, he had a long rope in his hand, just waiting for their arrival. Leo sat Sam in the back of the open trunk.

"Behave, or we'll make you behave," he warned.

"Go to hell," was Sam's only reply.

Leo smacked him, leaving a long lasting sting and a red mark. Sams swallowed hard, breathing deeply.

Damien, went to wrap the rope around Sam's wrist when Sam took a swing at him. Leo caught his arm, twisting it behind his back. Sam winced, but didn't say a word. Damien didn't even change his facial expression, he simply rummaged through the black box that was sat next to Sam. When he found what he was looking for, he gripped Sam's arm tight. "Just remember, you asked for this," he said just was he slid the needle full of clear liquid into Sam's vein.

Sam couldn't explain it. He couldn't tell you what was happening, but it was peaceful. Whatever Damien just gave him, didn't make him sleepy , it didn't make him black out, either. It just put Sam at rest. He felt his shoulders slump forward and his fists loosen. Sam's heart rate slowed to a calm, lullaby-like speed. Sam inhaled and exhaled deeply, like he was in a trance. That's what it felt like. That's the only way Sam could describe it... it put him in a trance. He couldn't react to anything either. He watched, almost helplessly, as Damien tied his hands a feet tight together. He couldn't fight them away as they lifted his shirt to take his belt and check his pockets for anything else he might have. Sam couldn't yell... hell, he couldn't talk. And Sam sure as hell couldn't move his head away when they tied a black bandana around his eyes, making everything really seem like a dream.

When he was lifted from the back of the trunk, it felt like he was flying. Like he was weightless.

Leo carried him, bridal style, into the backseat, lying him down gently.

"You know," Leo says, smiling. "I like the kid a lot more when he's like this."

He looks back at Sam from the passenger seat. He's lying there, still like death in the back seat. His mouth is open, just slightly as he takes in slow, robotic- like breaths.

Damien laughs a little, sliding into the driver's seat once again. He nods. "Told you the kid was a fighter."

He starts the car, driving out of the woods area they were just in, and back into the slow moving traffic.

* * *

Hope you liked this chapter. Tell me your thoughts? Review?  
Next chapter, we meet Nick... everybody's favorite person, lol.  
Stay tuned!


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: _Thank you all so much for the support on the first couple of chapters. I hope you're liking it. Don't be afraid to tell me what you think! I want to know, really, I do. Even if it's something small... please let me know.

Sorry for the bit of a delay. I've been a little busy. Haven't had time to write.

_Warning: _See any previous chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 4:**

There was no telling how long he'd be out for or how long they'd been driving, but when Sam finally began to come back to his senses, they were still driving. He blinked once... twice, trying to get his brain to focus. He swallowed, just to make sure he still could and he took in a deep breath. Sam winced a little, his chest was tight and burned a little. Behind his back, he squeezed his hands together and brought them back into fists. A tingling sensation was sent up his arms, into his shoulder blades, then down the center of his back. Sam shook.

"We're just barely gonna make it there before noon."

_Before noon? It's not even after noon yet? _Sam thought.

In a way, Sam felt unattached from his body. Like he was two different people or something. He was uncomfortable, set down at an odd angle and position. Once arm was asleep, and his knees were tight. He hadn't moved in God knows how long, and it was really beginning to take a toll on his body. He had this sensation, he needed to move, but he couldn't. This was horrible.

"Look who decided to wake up," Leo teased from the front seat. He had a cigarette in his mouth, bouncing up and down at he spoke, daring to fall. Sam watched as the ashes of it fell onto the seat of the car, sizzling on it for a second, then cooling off. Sam swallowed again. His mouth was terribly dry, like he'd be in the desert for a month.

Leo turned back around, facing forward. "Well we're almost there. Just sit tight."

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Dean didn't know where he was going. He was too late to catch where the truck went. He was too late for everything, in his opinion.

As he drove, he gripped the searing wheel; tight enough to make his knuckles to turn a whitish color. He chewed on his bottom lip, staring at the asphalt in front of him while his brain went wild. In his mind, he was screaming at the top of his lungs, scolding himself for not keeping Sam safe. Dean wouldn't even allow himself to even begin to _think _of what might be happening to Sam or what those guys had planned. Hell, he didn't want to know. He just wanted to find Sam and get him home where he belongs. Dean rubbed his hand along his hairline, trying to calm down. He'd never get anywhere with his mind spinning out of control.

He swerved in and out of traffic, barely avoiding his grill coming in contact with a black convertible's bumper. He skidded, gripping the wheel even tighter as he forced himself to the side of the road. He couldn't focus. He damn sure couldn't drive. Not like this. Not now. All this with Sam was weighing on him so much. He couldn't explain it, but he had a really bad feeling about these people. Something told Dean that they wanted more than just to kidnap Sam for ransom or something.

Sighing heavily, Dean tugged at the ends of his short chapped hair. He leaned forward resting his head on the steering wheel. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, curled his hands, opened his mouth, and yelled at the top of his lungs until his throat was red and sore.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

The sun was high in the shy as the red truck came down the winded driveway that allowed the entrance to the empty warehouse. Sam was beginning to get the feeling back in his hands, but he still couldn't find the strength to sit up. He couldn't tell where he was. Hell, he was clueless. He didn't even know what the warehouse looked like. He couldn't see the dark grey pain the covered it. Sam couldn't see the dark white colored double doors that he was going to be brought through shortly.

As he truck pulled into the back, Sam felt his heart begin to pound. The car was slowing down, which meant that they were nearing or was at where ever the final destination was. Once the car came to a complete stop, he was doing to have to deal with whatever was thrown at him, and he could tell it wasn't going to be good. Sam's stomach felt sick. It was twisting and turning, like he was going on his first date. But this was no date. This was a nightmare. A pure nightmare.

Leo exited the car and jerked the back seat door open. Sam felt his strong hands grab him by the ankles and literally pull him out of the car. Sam's stomach collapsed as he suddenly lost the seat and dropped to the dirt on the ground. Air rushed out of him with a 'omph' sound. Leo only chuckled.

"Sorry 'bout that, kid."

Sam was lifted off the ground and into Leo's arms. Even though Leo was a big guy, with huge calloused hands, his hold was a little on the gentle side. Sam expected Leo's hands to hold him tight, possibly leaving hand prints on his shoulder and under his leg as he carried him, but he didn't.

Whatever Damien and Leo had injected Sam with was beginning to ware off, but the world still had a blurry, fake-like feel to it. Almost like if he was in a dream or something.

As they walked in the door, a horrible smell hit them. It was like drugs, alcohol, cheap cologne, and sex all around. Sam's lungs tightened a little as he breathed in the harsh air. Leo and Damien seemed to be used to it, for they didn't even inhale differently.

They walked up stairs. Dark, creepy stairs and Damien pushed open a door. They entered a hug, open space. Like, Wal-Mart sized space. On the corner were thee boys. They were sitting on the hard concrete floor, shirtless. Their hands were chined about their head and to the heavy wall behind them. They sat almost motionless, didn't even acknowledge Sam was he was carried by them. They all had their heads down, but Sam could tell they were young. Older than him, probably. In their early twenties, he assumed, but they were still young. It's a shame they're all stuck here. On the corner adjacent to the boys, were three girls. They all had dark hair that was caked and scrunched together from the heat in here. A man, tall with blonde, dirty hair approached the ones that were chained on the ground. He walked to each of them, lifting their heads and looking hard at them for a moment. Sam wasn't sure what he was doing,but it gave him creeps. He wanted to leave and he wanted to leave now.

There was more stairs, then they entered a dark room. The lights were completely off. Sam felt himself being lowered to something kind of soft maybe a bed. His head fell on something that mirrored a pillow. Damien grabbed his arms, pulling them out to his sides and chained his wrists. Sam struggled, trying to pull his hands away before they were restrained but he wasn't strong enough. Leo smiled down at him, a weird, creepy smile that Sam hoped to forget. He swallowed hard, looking away. Sam stared at the ceiling. It was dirty, just like the rest of this place and was a dark share of while. Closer to a caramel color.

Just then, there was a pinch in his arm. Sam's eyes darted to Damien who stood next to him with a blank expression.

"Night night," he says in a cold tone, just was Sam's eyes flutter closed and he's taken away from this nightmare.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Damien banged on the thing door, hearing it rattle on the other side.

"Who's there?" came a booming voice that not even Damien was used to yet. He swallowed hard, rubbing his eyes.

"It's Damien," he called back. "I-"

The door swung open, and Nick stood. His thick, dark hair was a mess. He wore a white muscle shirt and light blue jeans. Nick wasn't the most muscular sized guy, but he was pretty damn strong. And that's what got him the most respect. He didn't look like much, but if you tested him, he wouldn't hesitate to whoop your ass. He had snappy comebacks and was in full authority all the time. No one dared to cross him or to make Nick mad. They wouldn't want that haunting them for the rest of their lives.

"I've got 'em, Nick. He's in he spare room upstairs. I dunno if you wanna keep him there... but we had to put him somewhere, y'know. "

Nick nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I understand. C'mon. I wanna see."

Damien escorted Nick to the room where Sam was in.

Nick breathed out lightly.

"Wow," he says when he spots Sam unconscious on the bed. "You weren't kidding."

Damien shrugged. "Told'ya. I found a good one. Good looking, right?"

Nick smiled slightly, nodding his head. "To say the least."

Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, Nick went through Sam's pockets. Damien didn't even bother to tell him that he and Leo had already done that.

"He's young," Nick observed. "Really young. How old?"

Damien scratched the side of his head. "School I.D says he just turn eighteen a couple months ago."

Nick smiled.

"Perfect," he says in an almost-whisper. "He's perfect."

He looks back at Damien. "Great job."

Nick stood, and began to unchain Sam's wrists.

"We'll need to find a spot for him. If not a bed, at least some chains out there. "

Damien's eyebrows raised a little.

"Chains?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah."

"But, don't you at least give 'em a week or so?"

Nick shrugged.

"Usually, but I can't wait." Nick unchains both of Sam's wrists and lifts his shirt over his head, tossing it to the ground. Sam doesn't even stir.

Nick smiles a little, eying the boy. "He's going on sale tonight."

* * *

So what'cha think? Let me know. Please review (:


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: _You guys are totally awesome. Thank so much for sticking with this story. I hope you're enjoying it. I just wanted to say thank-you to everyone and anyone who takes the time to review. Especially if you're someone who writes for FanFiction, you understand how much work you up into the chapters, so getting feedback is always rewarding; so thank you.

_Frequently Asked Question #1: Where is John?/ Will John be in this story?  
_Actually, yes. John is in this story. I'm just waiting for the perfect time to put him in. A lot of you were asking about him, I was actually shocked. But yes, John will be in here eventually. Possibly in the next couple chapters.

_Frequently Asked Question #2: How graphic will this story get?  
_ Not too much I promise. It's just to get the point across so you can see in depth the situation that Sam's in. I won't get too crazy, I promise. Trust me (:

Also, I apologize for the spelling/grammar errors last chapter. I was really in a rush. I didn't have time to read it over.

_Warning: _Technically, you just read it. But, see any previous chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 5:**

Damien watched as Nick yanked Sam up from the bed. The boy's head fell forward into his chest. He breathed in deeply. Nick had him by the wrists, keeping him in the sitting position until he came to. The boy made a coughing sound and his head shot up. Almost immediately, he jerked his arms back away from Nick. He looked scared, but had a look that told Nick he was very brave. Nick almost smiled.

"Who are you?"

Nick and Damien exchanged looks.

Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, Nick cleared his throat. "I didn't tell you to speak."

Sam opened his mouth to answer, but Nick continued, "I'm gonna set the rules straight right now. You work for me. So you do what I say. Soon enough you'll realize that what I say, goes. No one goes against me. And _no one_ is disrespectful to me. If you have a question, you ask permission to speak. You cannot tell me 'no', and you cannot go against what I say. Do you understand me?" He leaned closer to Sam, smiling an evil smile. Sam gulped, but didn't answer.

Nick's face softened, like he was speaking to a child. "I've heard about you... well not really. But I've been _told_ some really good things."

Damien shifted on his feet, he watched emotionless as Nick continued. "Why don't you tell me something about yourself?"

Sam looked away, refusing to speak to these people.

A hard hand stung the side of his face, catching him off guard. He automatically took a swing at Nick, missing him just barely.

"So you do fight back?" Nick's head turned to the side in amusement. "They're gonna love it."

Sam felt a shiver slide down his spine, he tensed up a little.

There was sort of an awkward silence in the room. Sam still wasn't talking.

"Why don't you tell me your name?"

Sam looked away.

Nick reached out, placing his hand just under Sam's chin, trying to make eye contact.

Sam flinched, smacking Nick's hand. The sound bounced off the walls. Nick hissed.

Without hesitation, he pounced. His heavy hand wrapped around the side of Sam's face. Nick dug his thick fingers into the side of Sam's cheek, pressing his teeth into the inside of his mouth, piercing it, his thumb on Sam's neck. Sam pulled back, pushing at Nick, but it didn't do much. Nick moved closer, hovering over Sam. His breath was hot against Sam's face.

"I've been trying to be patient with you, you son of a bitch," Nick pressed harder on Sam's neck. He felt Sam's body twitch, trying to push himself away. But there was nowhere to go. Nick had him pinned. "It's always the little ones, you know that? It's always the ones like you that cause the most trouble. You always think you're so tough. I'm here to show you you're not. You're _nothing_."

Nick adjusted his grip, now his whole hand was pressing on Sam's throat, cutting off his air.

"I don't care who you think you are... you'll never be that disrespectful to me every again. I will do as I say, even if I have to _force _ matter what, I always get what I want."

Sam gulped, his heart began to race. He was beginning to see black dots in his vision, it was getting harder to breathe. He gasped, but it came in weakly. Sam tugged at Nick's hand, his eyes pleading for him to let go.

"See that?" Nick says with a chilling smile. "You're breaking down already...I''ll have you wrapped around my finger in no time."

With a bit of a push, Nick let go of Sam's throat. Immediately, Sam fell forward and his hands shot to his neck, rubbing it. He gasped a few times, taking in the harsh, oddly smelling air into his lungs. His heart didn't slow down, though. It couldn't. He was too anxious.

Slowly, Sam lifted his head up and he glared at Nick straight in the eye.

"My brother... will kill you. He will hunt you down and kill you," Sam coughed out, his throat stinging.

Nick laughed out loud, finding that funny.

"You know, that's cute. I didn't know you had a brother. Hope you got to say good-bye, though 'cause you're never seeing him again."

Sam felt a twinge in his stomach. The thought of Dean never finding him ran across his mind, but he didn't let it stay long.

He shook his head. "He won't stop looking for me. Never."

Again, Nick chuckled. "That's what they all say..." he mumbled.

There was silence. Nick sighed, trying again. "Why don't you tell me you're name?"

For a couple of seconds, Sam was quiet.

"Sam," he says softly, almost whispering it. Nick snapped his fingers.

"Sam," he repeats to himself. "Sammy. I like it."

Nick stood. "Well Sammy, it looks like you're gonna make me a lot of money."

Pulling Sam to his feet, Nick and Damien grabbed either of his arms and forced him out of the room and out to where the other captives were held.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Dean damn near banged his head on the steering wheel. He didn't know what to do.

He didn't have a lead.

Sure, he seen the truck, but he was in too much a a hurry to catch the license plate. The only thing he remembered was that one of their name's was Damien. He remembered the other call it out once they had gotten Sam into the back of their car.

Dean shivered a little.

He replayed it all over in his mind, hating himself a little more.

Maybe if he fought harder, moved a little quicker, punched a little harder, something- then maybe Sam wouldn't be with them right now. Maybe he would've been able to save Sam.

Again, Dean clutched the wheel.

He was frustrated.

He was upset

He was disappointed.

He was at the end of his rope.

"I should call Dad," he says softly to himself.

He'd been debating it since he saw Sam being driven off in the car.

He wanted his dad. He wanted his help. He _needed _his help. But Dean didn't know if he could deal with the look John was going to give him once he told him what happened. Dean already felt horrible and irresponsible; he couldn't take the look on his father's face when he tells him that Sam was kidnapped and he had no idea who took him, why, or where to start to get him back.

Dean smacked the wheel again.

"Dammit," he mumbled, digging into his pocket.

He dialed his father's number and waited for it to ring. Dean was expecting his voicemail, expecting to have to leave a message, but on the fourth ring it stopped.

"Dean what is it?" came a scruffy voice.

Dean gulped, suddenly feeling a lump in his throat.

"Dad, I'm sorry," says softly into the phone.

He could almost feel his father tense up.

"Dean?" he asked, his voice firm. "What happened?"

Dean gripped the phone. "Sam... some guys took Sam... and I couldn't stop him. I tried, Dad, I did, but -"

John cut him off with a simple , "I'm on my way."

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Sam was placed on the far wall with all of the other boys. His hands were tied above his head in an awkward position, leaving his back and arms stiff.

"You're new," came a voice. It was soft but rugged. Sam looked to his left. There sat a boy, he had dark blond hair that was cut short. His eyes were deep blue. He looked tired... there were bags beginning to form under his eyes. Under his left eye was a bruise that looked fresh. It was red, staining the boy's face. Sam wondered where he'd got it.

Sam nodded. "Yeah," he answered.

The boy looked away for a second then back at Sam.

"What's your name?"

Sam yanked at his chain a little it didn't budge.

"Sam." he gestured to the boy. "What's yours?"

"I'm Austin."

Sam nodded.

"Have you been here long?" Sam asked, his curiosity taking over.

Austin shrugged. "A year and a half... almost two?" he guessed.

Sam looked away.

"You're just a kid," Austin says to him, disappointment in his voice.

Sam shook his head. "I'm eighteen. Technically, I'm not a kid."

There was a hint of hurt in Austin's eyes. "I was about your age when they got me, too."

Sam gulped, looking down at the ground. "I don't wanna be here..."

Austin nodded, knowing exactly how he feels. Just two years ago he was Sam, sitting here for the first time, scared out of his mind.

"Trust me, Sam, no one wants to be here. It's the closest thing to hell on earth."


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: _As always, thank so much for the support. I hope you stick with this story and I hope it's keeping your interest. Also, thank you for the reviews I receive, they really me a lot to me. Thanks for letting me know what you think of the story.

_Warning: _See any previous chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 6:**

John barreled into the parking lot of the address Dean had given him. It was a small motel, just like he'd likes them. It was near abandoned, but the 'no vacancies' sign was lit. Pulling into the closest parking space, he got out of the car and looked for room 36 as quick as he could. It didn't take long to find, John scanned the red painted doors quickly and number 36 stuck out like a sore thumb. He jogged to the door and pounded on it.

"Dean, open up!"

He knocked again.

"Dean? You in there? It's-"

Dean opened the door with a look on his face that made John's stomach drop a little. The first think he took notice of is how tired Dean looked. It's only been a couple of hours and Dean already looked like he'd hadn't slept for days. John stepped inside.

"So tell me what happened," he says, finding the chair and taking a seat in it. "From the beginning."

Dean sighed as he took a seat on the bed. He pressed his head into his hands. He gathered his thoughts.

"Early this morning, me and Sam were leaving the motel. We were on our way to Michigan, y'know, just enjoying the drive. So we stop at the motel and get some sleep because were were getting up early to hit the road again," Dean sighed again. "I went into the room to check out while Sam was putting the bags in the car," he shook his head with sort of a shrug. "I'm not exactly sure what happened, but I guess those guys came out of no where. I hear all this happening behind me so I instantly run out there to help Sam, you know? And for a while we were fighting. I don't know who, they had masks. Before I knew it, I was on the ground, fighting some guy while the other dumping Sammy into the back of the car."

John shifted in his seat.

"One of their names is Damien. I remember that. The other one called it out just before they too him."

Dean looked at the floor, he felt ashamed.

"I- I don't know. I tried, Dad. I really did. I-"

John put his hand up, silencing him.

"I don't blame you, Dean. How could I. It's not like you hand delivered Sam to those guys, and it's not like you didn't fight for him. I know you did."

"Yeah, but-"

"So we're just gonna have to kick a lot of ass to get him back, okay? We _will_ get him back."John states with determination in his eyes.

Dean nodded but didn't answer.

John stood, pushing Dean shoulder gently toward the bed.

"Why don't you get some sleep. It looks like your head is gonna explode."

Dean shook his head. "I can't, Dad."

John sucked his teeth.

"You're gonna have to try. Look at yourself, Dean. You're at the end of your rope and this whole situation hasn't even started yet. You need to calm down, you need some rest. Now, go. Lay down."

Again, Dean shook his head.

"We need to start looking for Sam, dad. I can't rest right now."

"We're never gonna find anything with you so out of wack. I know what you're feeling, Dean. Believe me, I do. I'm feeling it too. I wanna get Sam back just as much as you do. But we both need to keep it together. With both our heads spinning, we'll get nowhere and we'll never find Sam... just try, okay? We can start in a couple hours or something."

Dean didn't know how to answer. It was probably best not to.

"But," he begins. "What will you do till then?"

John shrugged. "I'll try to get some kind of lead with the information you told me. It's not much, but I think I can get something if I do some digging."

At first thought, Dean would think that it's impossible for someone to fins anything with the little bit of information he had remember, but then again, it was his dad. He could always find something out of nothing. He always seemed to defy the odds. So instead of arguing, Dean pushed himself backwards, gently lying his head on the pillow.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

"Don't you have anyone that might be looking for you?" Sam asked, turning his body slightly toward Austin.

He shrugged. "I mean, I have a family. A mom and a little brother... but they probably think I'm dead or something. It's almost been two years since I've seen them..."

Both boys look away.

"I'm sorry," Sam replies. "I bet they're still looking, though. They wouldn't give up on you, would they?"

Austin shrugs. "My Dad died with I was younger... he was killed. And my mom, she doesn't do good in stressful situations. I'd rather have her think I'm dead then to know what's actually happening to me- here. I don't want her to know what I've been though. She couldn't take it."

Sam nodded. "Yeah," he agrees almost silently.

Austin's eyebrows raise. "What 'bout you? You got someone to raise hell looking for you?"

Sam couldn't help but smirk a little. "My brother... Dean. I know he's looking for me. He's not gonna stop. I know he won't. That's the only thing I can depend on."

A soft smile was written on Austin's face.

"Keep that faith, okay? Trust me, you're gonna need it."

Sam nodded, looking away, but Austin persisted.

"I'm serious, Sam. Things are gonna get bad... really bad. I'm not trying to scare you, but I want you to know what's gonna happen, okay?"

Almost shakily, Sam nodded.

"These people... these monsters are gonna sell you like it's nothing. And they'll sell you to any sick bastard with enough money. It's disgusting. After a while you learn to black them out, sometimes you don't even remember it. If anything, you're a little sore after, but..." his voice trailed off and he sniffed.

Sam didn't know what to say. There was nothing to say. He felt his eyes beginning to cloud, but he blinked it away quickly.

"Thank you-"

Austin shook his head. "Don't thank me, okay? Neither of us should be here. I shouldn't have to be warning you. You shouldn't have to live through something like this; neither should I. But... I'll do all I can to protect you, okay?"

Sam shook his head, not understanding.

"Why do you care about me so much? You don't really know me..."

Again Austin sniffled. "You remind me of my little brother, is all. And it would kill me if he had to go through this."

Just then, three men walked though the door, escorted by Nick. He led them to the middle of the room. He said something to them, but Sam was too far to hear what he was saying. He looked over at Austin who what turned himself forward and put his head down.

"What's happening?" he asked.

Austin's only reply was a shushing sound.

A minute went past, a minute of the men standing in front of the captives talking.

Sam saw one of them men hand Nick a wad of money, almost instantly, Nick shoved it in his pocket and smiled.

Sam gulped.

"Austin-"

"Be quiet, Sam."

From across they way, Sam's heart skipped a beat when the man was pointing at him with a sick smile.

Austin looked up at the man, then back at Sam.

"What?" Sam asked. "What happened?"

"You," Austin whispered back, his eyes full of remorse. "He wants you."

Sam gulped. "Me?"

Again, Austin nodded.

"He wants to buy you."

* * *

Kind of a cliff hanger there, huh?  
Well, please review. Let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: _Thanks so much for all the support. It's really appreciated. Also, thank you for taking the time to tell me that you think about this story.

_Warning: _Sexual content. Not too graphic. You can handle it, I promise.

* * *

**Chapter 7:**

Austin and Sam exchanged glances. Sam's eyes full of confusion , Austin's full of worry. He shook his head at Sam, knowing what was going to happen.

Nick approached Sam and there was a look on his face that made Sam's heart skip a beat. He had keys in his hand. As he walked across the dirty ground that the captives were placed on, he eyed Sam. When he finally was in reaching distance, he held Sam's arms with one hand as he loosened the chains . Austin watched as they fell to the floor with a _clinking _sound. It didn't take long for Sam to start resisting. Austin had to give the kid credit. He sure didn't give up. He had will power and pride. That was good. In all the years that Austin had been here, and after he had seen many of people being taken, only a handful fought back. Austin himself had stopped fighting it. There was no point. If anything, it was just wasting energy. The end result was always the same: you lose, they win.

Sliding a hand under Sam's legs, Nick lifted him off the ground. Sam squirmed, trying to make Nick somehow lose his grip on him. It didn't work.

Austin slouched down on the floor, his heart racing. It was a shame, really.

Sam yelled, fighting against Nick's grip as he carried him upstairs. Nick, the buyer, and Damien only smiled. This was entertaining to them. Austin wondered how they didn't feel bad for anyone. All they seen was money. They don't care about anyone or anything else. These people were disgusting. If he could, Austin would kill them all.

He could still hear Sam struggling on the second floor of the warehouse. Austin shook his head.

He knew that when Sam came back he wouldn't be the same.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Dean was truly shocked at himself. He had slept into the next day. When he had opened his eyes again, it about about four in the morning. He rubbed his eyes, turning over to see his father stationed at the desk across the room . His head was down, but his hand was moving. He was writing something ; John was always writing. Maybe that's the reason he was so painfully organized when it came to hunting.

Dean pushed himself up from the bed, and cleared his throat. John's head whipped around to him and he smirked a little.

"Hey," John greeted softly.

"You find anything?" Dean asked, ready to get going.

John shook his head.

"Not really, but I've been doing a lot of thinking. Too much thinking if you ask me."

Dean nodded. He stood up from the bed and listened.

"You said these guys are in a red truck?"

Again Dean nodded. "Yeah. Four doors. Couldn't get the license plate, though. Everything was happening too fast."

John put his hand up. "That's okay," he says. "And you said one of their names is Damien?"

Walking to the edge of the bed, Dean says," Yeah. That's what the other guy, the one that was fighting Sam, had called out when they were ready to go. I dunno if it's his real name or what, but he answered to it."

Picking up the pencil again, John jotted something down.

"So we're looking for a red four door truck that could possibly have a guy named Damien driving it?"

"Yeah."

John stood, grabbing his jacket.

"Dad," Dean calls, halting his father. He takes a look at the clock. "It's like four. Nobody's up."

John shrugged.

"Good," he says. "Less people in our way."

He opens the door and exits the room knowing that Dean would be following close behind.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

No matter how hard Sam fought against Nick, he was still brought upstairs.

"You weren't kidding when you said he was a fighter," the man whispered to Nick.

Nick's eyebrows raised and he smirked.

They came to a door and Nick gestured for the man to open it.

Inside, it was just as plain as the other one . Just a bed that was stationed against the wall, a mirror and a nightstand. That's it. There was no need for anything else.

Chuckling a little, Nick placed Sam on the bed who was still squirming in his grip.

Sam's body moved all over the place, messing the bedsheets and everything. Nick and the other man only smirked at each other. Sam felt Nick's strong hand pin his to the edge of the bed. He put a chain around Sam's wrist, bounding him to the bed. Almost immediately, Sam yanked at it, but it didn't budge. It barely rattled.

Nick patted the man's shoulder.

"He's all yours," he says as he exit's the room and locked the door.

Sam's stomach dropped and his eyes bulged a little.

The man took a seat next to him.

He reached out, touching the side of Sam's face. Sam jumped, pulling away.

"Keep your filthy ands off me," he scolded.

The man smiled.

"You're adorable," he comments, almost as it he didn't even hear Sam.

Sam tried to pull away. Hell, he tried to get off the bed, but he couldn't. He chain on his wrist had pulled as far as it would go. He was stuck.

The man got on the bed further. He got on his knees and lifted one leg up and over Sam. His knees were pressed into Sam's sides, keeping him from squirming.

Sam bucked, trying to fling the man from on top of him, but he didn't work. If anything, the man seemed to enjoy it. He smiled creepily at Sam.

He grabbed Sam's hair and gripped in tight. He pulled Sams' head back, exposing his neck.

Sam stiffened, still trying to fight the man.

When he felt the man's lips on his neck he felt sick.

Sam's breathing was rapid and he couldn't bring himself to calm down. Again, Sam pushed the man away, trying desperately to keep him away, but it didn't work. When Sam pushed, the man bit harder and he was sure he drew blood. Sam cried out from the pain and his eyes swelled with tears, but he refused to cry.

The man's grip on his hair had turned into a petting motion.

His bites turned into kisses.

Sam was sure he would throw up.

There was nothing he could do to stop it.

So Sam closed his eyes, blocked everything that was happening to him out, and kept telling himself that it would all be over soon.

* * *

See, not too bad, right? It won't get anymore graphic than that, I promise. I don't even know if they'll be another part in the story like that...  
Either way, let me know what you think. Please review (:


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Note: _As always, you guys are the coolest people on FanFiction. Thanks so much to the people who gave me feedback and took the time to review. It's really appreciated. Thank you. Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

_Warning: _See any previous chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 8:**

John and Dean had driven deep into the night. Every street they passed began to look the same; and for a second, Dean began to think that they were just driving in circles.

"Dad," he states, rubbing the mist off the passenger seat window. "Where exactly are we going?"

"We're scoping out the town, son," John never took his eyes off the road. "These people... they come out a night. Kinda like roaches."

Dean smirked.

"So maybe we'll see something now that we wouldn't normally see during the daytime."

Nodding, Dean understood.

He could feel his father's eyes on him; Dean turned in his direction.

"You sure these guys are human?" John asked, his eyebrows arched.

Dean shrugged.

"That's what they seemed like to me. I mean, honestly, I hadn't even thought about them begin something else," Dean planted his forehead in his palm and squeezed his eyes shut. "Damn it."

John tapped the steering wheel, getting his attention. "Hey, don't be so hard on yourself. No one's mad at you."

Dean looked up. "Yeah, but that should've been the first thing I thought of-"

"No," John cut in. "The first thing you should've thought was that you had to get Sam back, and that you'd stop at nothing to do it."

Dean shrugged, fixing his eyes on his lap. It was times like these when he almost dreaded being with his father. It always made Dean feel smaller and younger than he actually was.

"That was my first thought," Dean admitted softly.

John looked over and smiled. "I know it was."

Dean nodded slightly, turning his attention back to the passing street.

Just then, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Dean looked over to find a sincere and determined look on his father's face.

"We're gonna find him, Dean."

Sighing, Dean replied, "Yeah, I know."

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Sam felt dirty.

Disgusting.

Like he'd rolled around in mud, then took a bath in a dumpster.

He was placed back out next to Austin , where everyone else was stationed.

When everything was over, Nick came back and unchained him, got him situated, and half dragged/ half carried him back downstairs. No one acknowledged when he was brought back, they were used to people coming and going.

Sam was quiet. Quieter than before, Austin too notice. But he didn't blame the kid. After what just happened... it was completely understandable.

Austin thought back to when he'd first arrived here and how scared he had been. He didn't have anyone to look after him. He didn't have anyone that he could trust. He intended on making that different for Sam.

"Hey... you alright?"

Sam didn't even turn in his direction. Austin frowned, but tried again.

"Sam."

Silence.

Nothing.

Sam's stare was fixed on the floor; his hands were clenched into a tight fist that seemed to get tighter and tighter as the seconds drew on. He took in shaky, shallow breaths. Austin felt bad. He wished that there was something that he could do for him, but he couldn't. This would only get worse.

"There's really nothing I can say," Austin begins again," But if you ever wanna talk or something, I'll be here okay?"

Austin studied Sam for a little, trying to get a response out of him.

"I'm fine," Sam mumbled, shifting on the concrete.

"Sam-"

"Really," Sam says back in a harsh but weak tone. Almost as if he was pleading for Austin to stop talking to him. "I'm fine."

Austin knew he wasn't fine. How could he be? But he was strong. Stronger than he was probably given credit for. Austin stopped talking and sat back a little. He sighed. He just hoped that Sam still had that strength as the days went on. Things will only get worse.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

John and Dean had drove around for hours, and then they finally stopped, Dean was surely thankful.

They arrived at a diner. It was small and standoffish, but for some reason John picked it.

"Why here, dad?" Dean had asked.

John only shrugged as he stood up out of the car. "I've got a hunch."

They entered the diner and an older lady was almost instantly coming up to them.

"Good morning, fellas," she greeted. "You interested in the specials?"

John put his hand up and shook his head.

"No thanks, but I'd like to talk to you for a second, if you don't mind."

The woman frowned, but then she began to walk, instructing for them to follow her.

"So what'cha gotta say?" she asked, her jaw flapping.

John and Dean took a seat.

"I just need to know if you know a guy named Damien." John stuck his hand out, "He'd be about this tall... probably driving a red truck..."

The woman thought for a second.

"Well..."

"Please," Dean says. "It's really important."

The elderly woman shrugged. "I'm not sure of his name, but there's a guy and his friend that always come on here. They drive a red truck. This part of town has people who are real familiar with each other, so a car like that always stands out."

John nodded.

"When was the last time he was here?"

For a minute, she thoughts. "A day or so ago?" she guessed. "He's usually here every other day or so. He's practically a regular."

Dean and John exchanged looks. Dean could tell his father had something up his sleeve.

"Thank you for your time," John says as he stands up again and makes his way out of the diner.


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's Note: _I really didn't like the last chapter. I've read it like three times, and I really just don't like it. So hopefully this one is better! Thanks so much to everyone who took the time to review. And a special thanks to _Doyeshuny_ who took the time to write this. It's really appreciated. This chapter's dedicated to you (:

**Doyeshuny's Review, Chapter 8.**

_"Thank God John thought about the diner! I'm not a huge John Winchester fan but if he can get poor Sammy away from those animals before anything else can happen that would be awesome. That poor baby. I want John and Dean to beat the living hell out of these guys. I want them to torure them for what they did to Sammy and all those kids. I want them to peel the skin off of Nicks body slowly. I hate Nick. I hate all those guys but Nick is the worst. I'm glad that at least Sammy has Austin. I really like him. Please don't hurt Austin. He's the only thing keeping that poor baby sane I think. I guess if Sammy can't have his big brother Dean with him he at least has his sub big brother Austin. I know Dean will be grateful to Austin. Needless to say I freakin LOVE this story. It has me on pins and needles. You are such a gifted writer"_

- Thank you so much for that. I'm happy you're enjoying the story. Your reviews always make me smile. You tell me everything you're feeling about the story and it always helps me configure how I want to write the next one, so thank you.

_Warning: _See any previous chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 9:**

"I knew it. I just- I knew it," John mumbled to himself as he exited the small dinner and and power walked to the car. Dean had to slightly jog just to keep up. They both entered the car and took in a deep breath. There was a feeling in the car, a feeling that let them know that they were both thinking the same thing. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but it was the only lead they had. THis could be the only hunch they had to getting Sam back.

A silence fell over the car. John hadn't put the keys in the ignition to start the car. He simply stared out at the asphalt. In the silence, Dean couldn't help but let his mind wander. And it ran to the darkest of places. He closed his eyes, shaking his head, trying to block the thought. The words were at the tip of his tongue ; the words he'd be yearning but dreading to asking his father since he had arrived. But he couldn't hold it in anymore-

"Do you think he's okay?" Dean asked, almost out of the blue. From the corner of his eye, he saw his father swallow hard. Pushing back his words, or his thoughts, rather. Maybe they had been thinking the exact same thing. John's reply was delayed. But it wasn't really much of an answer. He waved his hand slightly with a small shrug. He punched the keys into the car, turned it, and started the car. That was his own way of saying 'end of discussion'. But it hadn't really stared yet.

"Dad, c'mon. We can't beat around the bush, here," Dean stopped. His voice quivered. He didn't want to cry. He wasn't going to cry. But damn, it was hard. "But I think we need to be realistic. And there's a chance that Sam might be-" he stopped. Dean pressed on John's shoulder, trying to get him to look in his direction at least. It was just as hard on Dean as it was on him, but still. Dean needed to hear this. He needed to know what mindset John was in right now. "Dad."

John exiled sharply, smacking the wheel. "I don't know, Dean. Okay? I don't know. But as far as I'm concerned, we're going to get him back, kill those sons of bitches who had the balls to even lay a hand on my son, and then bring him home. Anything in between is just a waste of breath. Sam's coming home. End of story. Do you understand?"

For a moment, Dean was silent. His heart was pounding against his chest and he was sure his body was shaking. But he gathered himself,cleared his throat, and replied, "Yes sir," as John put the car in drive and left the diner's parking lot.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Austin shifted on the dirty ground. His back ached, but that was normal. His hands were numb, but that was a sensation that had sadly become normal to him and pretty much everyone else here. Everyone except for Sam. But he was dead quiet. Austin's eyes shifted onto Sam who was clenching and unclenching his fists that were held above his head by the chains. Austin watched as he inhaled shaky breaths and let them out slowly. Sam's face was blank and his eyes were fixed on the floor, almost as if he were in a trance. Maybe he was simply in deep thought?

"Sam?"

Austin called out. But Sam didn't answer. He didn't even flinch when his name was called. Austin frowned and shook his head. He felt so bad for Sam. Not just because of what had happened to him, hell it had happened to everyone here. That's what they're used for. But because Austin knows exactly how he feels. It was how he felt a year and a half ago when he had first arrived. In the back of his mind, he knew that Sam needed someone to talk to. He needed to know that someone was here for him, but Sam wouldn't talk at all.

"Sam, c'mon," Austin tried again. But Sam was still quiet. Austin saw him squeeze his eyes shut tight and his breaths come in short, quick gulps.

When Austin looked up he spotted Jonathan. He carried a bowl of apples and a bag of sliced white bread. He made his way toward the captives, starting down by where the women were. Around here, they were only fed twice a day of they were lucky. Sometimes it's just once a day, sometimes not at all. It all depends on Nick's mood. Depends on how generous he feel that day. 'They should be lucky I'm even keeping them alive. So if I don't feel like feeding them today, then they don't get any food. I don't care,' Austin remembered hearing Nick say once.

Quickly, Austin straightened up and sat back. He was sure Jonathan would tell Nick if he spotted Austin trying to talk to Sam. They hated that. Nick wanted no communication between the captives. He was probably afraid they'd plan a riot, an escape, or something. But that was never the case. The captives talked to each other to keep themselves sane. If they didn't, everyone would be wrapped up in their own thoughts, trapped in their mind, and in a body if they didn't want to be in. Soon they'd drown in their own mind. But if they talked to someone, telling them know that they're still human, even if they're not treated like one, it'll surely help them get through the day. That's what Austin's trying to do with Sam. He's trying to let him see that he's only there to help him, that Austin will be there to help him through this nightmare come to life, but he won't talk.

By now, Jonathan is standing in front of Austin. With his keys, he's loosening the crane that's above his head, holding his hands up. He loosens it just enough so his arms can come down. The chain rattles as Austin slowly pulls his arms down, feeling the tingling sensation over them as the blood rushed back into his fingers. Jonathan hands him an apple and drops a slice of bread on his lap ,then moves on to Sam.

Austin watches from the corner of his eye as Jonathan lowered Sam's chain. There was relief written all over his face when he was able to move his fingers again. Sam didn't even look at Jonathan as he handed him the apple and dropped the bread. Jonathan walked away.

Taking a bite out of the apple, Austin gestured to him.

"You can eat it, Sam. It's alright."

Sam doesn't budge. Austin watches as he flexes his fingers. His face was blank, otherwise. Austin shook his head.

"You need it Sam. It'll keep your strength up."

Sam swallowed hard. "I'm not hungry," he mumbles back, not even looking in Austin's direction. Austin takes another bite out of the apple.

"Trust me, you're going to regret eating it later."

Sam shook his head.

"You can't survive without food, Sam. You know that."

Sam shrugged.

"What, do you want to die?" Austin asked, a slight chuckle in his voice. He expected Sam to smile, too, but he didn't. His face stayed the same.

Sam shrugged again.

Austin frowned.

"Please," he tries. "You don't even have to eat it all. At least half the apple or something," Austin tried to bargain. He can tell that Sam's a stubborn kid. But starving yourself isn't proving anything. He need to eat. Especially since dinner isn't guaranteed.

Sam doesn't move, but Austin can see him eyeing the apple. He reaches it down, picking it up. He brings it to his mouth and takes a bite. Austin nods, smiling slightly.

"Thank you."

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Hours passed.

Hours that felt like days.

Austin was glad that ha had gotten Sam to talk. Even if he was just for a little. When it came to his brother, that's when Sam's voice livened up a little. Austin had learned a good amount of things about him. Sam said his name was Dean. He wasn't too much older than Sam. Not too much older than Austin, either. Sam talk Austin that Dean was the type of person that didn't give up, especially when it came to family. Sam seemed pretty certain that Dean was out there somewhere looking for him. Austin could tell that Sam admired his brother. It made him smile. He couldn't help but to think about his own younger brother back home. He hated to think that he probably wouldn't see him again.

"What's his name?" Sam had asked, finally opening up a little to Austin.

" Jacob," Austin answered. "He's about your age now. Maybe a little older."

Sam nodded, and then he was silent.

"Maybe they're still looking for you?" Sam suggests.

Austin shakes his head. "Nah… I know they're not. It's been too long."

Sam disagreed. "They're your family, Austin. It's never too long."

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Sam couldn't even imagine he had possibly fell asleep in a place that, but he did.

He was awakened, rudely. His hands were already unchained and he was yanked to his feet, then up and over someone's shoulder. It all happened so fast, Sam could barely process it. But he made himself focus quickly. He was in the arms of Nick again. He looked up and noticed a man with a wad of money in his hand, smiling creepily at Sam.

That's when it clicked in Sam's head.

_No,_ Sam thought. _Not again._

Sam squirmed in the man's grip, but he only held him tighter. Nick laughed.

Gathering his strength, Sam kneed Nick in the chest. The man hunched forward, and when Sam felt the ground below him, he kicked again. Nick's grip loosened a little, but not completely.

"What the hell is the problem?" Leo called walking toward Nick and Sam when he heard the commotion.

Sam took a swing at Nick, catching him in the face, just under his right eye. Nick finally let go, when his reflexes forced his hands to cover his eye.

When Sam was finally on his feet again, he didn't know where to go. Damien was coming, too. So was Leo and Jonathan. And Nick was quickly recovering.

Even though he fought, under the attack of four men, Sam was overpowered. Leo and Damien took hold of him. One had a tight grip on his wrists, clamping his hands together, while the other held his ankles together. Sam yanked his hands and his feet but he couldn't move.

Nick looked angry. Infuriated.

"Take him downstairs!" he ordered.

Austin gulped.

"No, wait!" he called out, and he was surprised at himself.

Nick stopped, too, his eyebrows arched.

"Do you wanna join him?"

Austin was silent, swallowing his reply.

Nick turned his back and faced Sam.

"You're gonna pay for that," he threatens in a harsh tone as he watches him being taken downstairs.


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note: _As always, thank you to everyone to took the time to review. Thanks to everyone whose reading, too. I'd really like to hear your thoughts on the story, though. It'll only help me write next chapter if you tell me how you're feeling. But either way, thank you for sticking with the story. It's greatly appreciated.

I apologize for any mistakes in this chapter. Honestly, I'm in a rush; but I wrote this a little more carefully so that I wouldn't have to go back and check it. So if you find anything wrong, I'm sorry.

_Warning: _See any previous chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 10:**

Sam felt like a jump-rope the way he was being carried. With his hands held above his head and his ankles held together, Sam squirmed. He was carried across the warehouse floor and to an opening that led to stairs. It was dark, Sam could see that from the top of the stairs. He gulped, wondering what was out there. He shuttered. Nick came up behind them and whispered something into Damien's ear. He nodded. "You got it, boss," he answered as he gestured for Leo to begin walking down the stairs, bringing Sam with him.

They walked down fourteen stairs into a room that smelled of pure blood and sweat. The stench of it was even thicker than the aroma from upstairs that Sam was slowly becoming used to. And that scared him more than he let on: the fact that he was getting used to the smells around here. He was getting used to controlling his balder until they were scheduled to use the bathroom. He was getting used to not expecting a meal... and being thankful when he was handed the small pieces of food. All of that worried him. It was actually sad to think that someone could become used to a place like this... and it's even worse when it becomes someone's everyday life.

When they had reached the bottom of the stairs, they halted for a moment. Sam wasn't sure what was going to happen, but when the light suddenly turned on and stung his eyes, he was aware. Down here was suddenly much brighter than the rest of the warehouse. Sam squinted. Had he forgot how bright the outside world was already?

With great force, Sam was dropped to the ground. But before he had time to get up, run, move, or anything, shackles were tightened around his ankles. He was no longer able to stand up. From behind him, he heard Damien and Leo laughing, but he wasn't exactly sure what was so funny. As quickly as he could, Sam scoped the room. At the time, he wasn't sure what he was looking for. He searched for something to defend himself with, but there was none. He was in a pretty much vacant room.

Sam was yanked upright, but he wasn't placed on his feet. Damien held him by the waist and it gave Sam horrible flashbacks. He shoved himself backward, trying to become free of Damien's hold, but he only pushed himself into Leo's awaiting body. Thinking quick, Sam elbowed Leo in the chest and he reactively clutched his chest. He couched. Wasting no time, Sam jumped to the side; but with his ankles still chained, he couldn't go far. Damien grabbed him quickly. Leo, taking a short time to recover, took hold of him, too.

"Let me go," Sam struggled, as he tried to rip his hands away from the grabbing men.

Reluctant, and unwilling, Sam was pulled to the center of the room. Leo let go of him for a minute and reached for something overhead.

"His hands, his hands," Leo stated. Sam heard the sound of chains as they rattled above him. He looked up to see shiny silver restraints as they dangled above him. He gulped just as his arms were forced upright, straight up. Almost instantly, cold metal was wrapped around his wrists. The men let him go and took a step back as they watched him yank at the chains. But they knew he wasn't going to get out. They've seen it may a'times before. Whoever happened to be brought down here, especially if they were new like Sam, struggled until they had no energy left, but it did no good.

Both Damien and Leo walked together and headed for the door. Just before they left, Leo took hold of a levee and pulled it back. Without warning, Sam's chain yanked and lifted him off the ground. Sam groaned and squeezed his eyes together when he felt his shoulder blades were suddenly strained. His biceps burned within seconds of being pulled off the ground. Sam's feet brushed the floor, barely making contact. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, and bit his lower lip.

From the doorway, Sam heard Damien and Leo chuckle a little before disappearing up the stairs.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Sam wasn't sure how long he had been left there , but if seemed like forever. At first, Sam had tried to count, tried to to something to keep his mind off his aching arms, but the pain was overbearing. Sam tried to close his eyes and think about something else; and for a little it worked.

Sam thought about his last time with his brother. In the back of his mind, he wished that they had shared some kind of special moment before he was taken away from him or something. Sam's mind roamed. He thought about his father and where he might be. Maybe he was with Dean? Maybe Dean hadn't called him at all? Sam thought about his childhood and how he was suddenly thankful that he wasn't raised like any other kid. All of the little tricks that his father and brother had taught him over the years had helped him defend himself as much as he could.

But then Sam thought about what happened and how he'd been taken advantage of. He thought about the way he as strapped to the bed, left defenseless. Sam thought about how he struggled against the man, trying to ignore his touch and the words he'd spoken to him. Squeezing his eyes tight together, Sam tried to block the thought and the mental image, but it was overpowering. Sam pictured the man as he climbed on top of him, running his hands through his hair...

"Stop it," Sam ordered himself aloud, as he literally shook the memory away.

Just then, footsteps were heard as they trotted down the stairs. Sam held his breath, waiting to see who was going to enter the room.

Nick made his appearance. He smirked at Sam.

"Y'know, I don't like being disrespected," he stated softly, wasting no time. Sam watched as Nick rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

Sam was silent.

"I'm talking to you," Nick blurted out. He glared at Sam.

Sam looked away.

"Go to hell," was his only reply.

Nick chucked. He pointed at Sam.

"See? That's the type of shit I mean. Disrespect. You're a disrespectful child." Nick paused as he turned his back to Sam for a moment. "It's not attractive."

Sam, still, was silent. He watched as Nick went to a door on the side of the room. When it opened, Sam did all he could not to gasp.

Rows of whips aligned the shelves of the closet. Nick studied them for a moment before taking his pick. The one chosen was big... long. It was pure leather with a pitch black grip at the end of it. It was obvious that the whip was used before. Nick flicked the whip and tapped it against his hands. He ran the ends of it through his fingers as he studied Sam's body language.

"You scared?" Nick asked, taunting him.

Sam swallowed the lump in this throat and shook his head 'no'. He watched as Nick's eyebrows raised a little.

"Really?" he pressed, not believing the young man's fearlessness.

Sam licked his lips. "My father would be ashamed if I was afraid of a mut like you," he replied harshly.

Nick's face was stone. It took him a little to reply, though. He shook his head like a disappointed parent.

"You've got a smart mouth, kid... you're disrespectful... and quite frankly, you're attitude is disgusting."

Sam kept his mouth shut and kept his face emotionless.

Nick flicked the whip at Sam, just missing his side. He did all he could not to move. Nick moved closer and cocked his hand back.

"Maybe this will teach you a lesson."

* * *

Well, Sam's got himself into a situation, huh?

Question: Are any of you into the Covenant? I've always been in love with the movie and I watched it for the first time in a while the other day. I was thinking about writing something for it when this story is finished.

Please review. I'd love to know what you think about not only this chapter, but the story as a whole.

Happy holidays everyone.


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's Note: _Thanks so much everyone. I hope you all had a great holiday. Also, to the people who took the time to review last chapter: thank you especially. Thank you for telling me your thoughts on the story. I took all the little thing you said and tried to incorporate them into this chapter and of course, the rest of the story. I hope you're all enjoying the story and I hope you're still interested.

_Warning: _See any previous chapter. But for his chapter specifically, there's a torture warning.

* * *

**Chapter 11:**

With the whip gripped tightly in his hand, Nick flicked in on his hand. He watched as Sam eyes the end of it, waiting for when it was raised to him. Nick was sort of surprised, though. They boy didn't look scared. Sam knew what was going to happen and he didn't look afraid at all. That was new to Nick. Usually when he did this, the captives were already pleading for him to let them go and not to hit them. But not Sam. He was quiet, just watching. He didn't tug at the chains anymore. He knew he couldn't get out of them. Sam looked fearless.

Nick circled Sam, hitting the whip on the ground at he did. Sam's body was shaking, though. It might just be from the strain on his arms, though. No matter the reason, Nick was looking to straighten this kid out no matter what.

"You think you're a tough guy, don't'cha?"

Sam was silent, he had his eyes fixed on the whip, waiting for that moment when it would no longer be flicked at the ground, but swung at his exposed skin.

Suddenly, the weapon was smacked hard against the floor, the wind for it splashing Sam. He did all he could not to jump at the sudden movement. Nick smirked a little. He hit the whip on the ground again, this time coming within inches of Sam's stomach. Sam's eyes closed, he was sure he was going to get it, but when he didn't feel any pain he opened them again. He looked at Nick curiously. Why didn't he just get it over with?, Sam thought. Why is he wasting all this time trying to talk?

"I'm speaking to you," Nick says almost as if he's offended by the fact that Sam hasn't answered him yet.

Still Sam was silent. He wasn't going to give him any satisfaction, not even the slightest bit. So if Nick wanted to hear Sam talk, Sam planned on staying completely silent.

There was an aggravated look on Nick's face as Sam kept his emotionless. Sam knew that he liked to be in total control all the time, but he couldn't control Sam. Sure he could whore him out to whoever had enough money to buy him, he could take away his food and water if he wanted to, but he couldn't make Sam talk, he couldn't take the stubbornness out of him, either. That's where Sam knew he had the upper hand. Dean had always told him he was hardheaded and they he never really listened to anyone. Sam almost grinned, hearing his brother's words in his head.

A hard slash from the whip was delivered down the center of his back. Sam's face scrunched up and his hands balled into tighter fists above his head, but he didn't make a sound.

"Wipe that smile off your face, boy!"

Nick's anger reached a new level. He was sort of like a robot, Sam had observed. He sort of did things just off of impulse. He only thought about money and he'd do anything to get more of it. Nick didn't have compassion for anyone or anything. Sam figured that his heart had gone cold years and years ago. When Sam actually allowed himself to think about it, it was actually kind of sad. It's sad that someone could have absolutely no compassion for any human whatsoever. It was sad that someone could be so selfish. It was sad that Sam knew that there were more people in the world like Nick out there running wild, ruining people's lives left and right.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are around here. I don't know why you think you're so special that you don't have to follow rules or anything," Nick hit Sam again. These hits weren't hard enough to draw blood yet, if anything, they were warning hits; but they still hurt like hell. "You're not above anyone here. No one. Especially not me."

Sam still kept quiet. He even tried to block out Nick; and for a little while it worked, but then he was hit again, drawing him out of it. The whips stung his back for a while then slowly subsided, but Sam knew this was nothing to what was ahead. He could tell that Nick wasn't even trying to hit him hard. But it still hurt.

Nick took a step back, admiring the long red marks he left on the boys back. He even chucked a little.

Sam swallowed hard, breathing deeply.

'_Deep breaths, son. The pain will go away. Deep breaths' _

Sam could hear his father's voice coaching him; and if he closed his eyes, he could even see his father's face telling him to be strong.

Before he knew it, another hit was to his back. This time it was with great force. It was like a slow burn down his back. The hit was quick, but the pain it left lingered. Sam tightened and loosened his fist slowly, another technique his dad had taught both he and Dean when they were younger. Sam's breathing was beginning to speed up. He tried his best to control it, but it wasn't working.

'_Just calm down, Sammy. It'll be over soon. Just calm down' _

Dean's voice was echoing in the back of his head. Sam tried to listen to his brother. He did all he could to channel him and to black out Nick but it wasn't working too well.

Three hard slashes were placed on Sam's back. Those drew blood. He could feel it trickling down his back and being soaked up by the waist band of his Jeans. Nick was mumbling something in a harsh tone but Sam wasn't focused enough to actually make out the words that he was saying. Sam did all he could not to pay attention to the pain that was being inflected on his body. Sam allowed his eyes to close again hoping that the pain would magically go away if he did.

Four hard hits were delivered to Sam's back and sides again. He bit his lip so hard it turned white, but Sam was determined to stay silent. Nick was sweating, his lips pressed tight together in concentration. Sam heard him grunt each time he smacked the whip against Sam's shaking body. Nick was getting a lot of pleasure out of this; but all Sam felt was pain. By now, Sam saw little black dots in his vision that chased each other from one end of his eyesight to the other. He tried to blink them away, but they kept multiplying.

Nick paused for a second, the lasting sting of the whips still lingering on Sam's back, and Sam could hear was he cracked his knuckles.

"Had enough kid?"

Sam didn't say a word even though he prayed that Nick would stop. What he just got wasn't anything compared to how hard Sam knew Nick could hit.

Nick cleared his throat, expecting a reply from Sam. But when silence was the only thing that answered him, he was angered again. He took hold of the whip, gathered his strength, and started all over again.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

One hour.

One whole hour.

For sixty minutes Nick let out all his anger on Sam.

He was strategic, though. He made sure it hurt, me made sure that Sam bled, but he didn't over do it. He still needed Sam whether he wanted to admit it or not. Sam was a money maker. He was young. He was new. He was what the buyers wanted. So no matter how much Nick wanted to tear him apart, he couldn't.

When Nick had finally stopped, there was a pool of blood that dripped from Sam. Nick circled the boy, a disgusted look on his face.

"Maybe you've learned your lesson now?"

Sam's head was bowed, chin pressed against his collar bone. He struggled to keep his eyes open, even though he knew the importance of it. He could no longer feel his arms nor his hands. But he felt his back just fine. It was burning like the depths of hell. Each open wound sending a different type of pain wave through his body. But even then, Sam was quiet. He was quite proud of himself, even if it cost him this. He didn't give in, even though his brain was screaming at him to. Sam did what he knew Dean and his Dad would want him to. He didn't give these people any satisfaction.

Nick placed the bloody whip back in the closet and closed it up.

He walked over to Sam, reached up and grabbed his face.

"Stop being such a stubborn brat," Nick grumbles as he uses his key to unchain Sam's hands. He watches as Sam's weak body fell to the ground, not having enough strength to keep himself up. Sam tried to put his hands out to break his fall, but he couldn't. They were numb, a hurting, tingling sensation ran through them. They had hurt about as much as his back did, but even then, Sam refused to make a sound.

Rough hands grabbed Sam at his sides, lifting him off the floor.

Sam pressed his lips together, trying to keep his whimpers from exiting his body. The hands were pressing right on his open wounds. It hurt so bad he could scream, but he wouldn't.

Rolled over, Sam was lifted by Nick, settled into his arms, then escorted back upstairs.

Sam's vision was blurry, his eyes were barely open. He fought to keep them open and to stay alert, but he just couldn't. Everything around him seemed to have a dark grey tinge to it. Sam felt light, like a feather. His back still burned as he was carried through the middle section of the warehouse. He was brought past the captives. Sam tried to find Austin but he couldn't. He hoped that nothing happened to him.

"Damn, Nick," came a voice. Just by memory, Sam guessed it was Damien. "You've been down there this whole time?"

Nick nodded.

Damien stopped him, putting his arms out. "Here, give him to me, you need to get cleaned up."

"No," was Nick's soft reply. He walked again, brushing past Damien.

Damien followed Nick, though. They made their way across the open space and into a room that was sort of standoffish. But inside was very spacious. There was a man who sat at a table. He had short dark hair and he looked a little on the old side. If Sam was paying enough attention, he would of found it off that someone of the man's age was here, taking part in a business like this.

"What happened to him?" the man asked.

"Nick happened," Damien replied sarcastically.

Cutting his eye, Nick gave him a look, but didn't say anything.

The man stood. "C'mon, c'mon put him down." He gestured to the table that resembled one that you would see at a doctor's office.

Nick did as he was told.

Sam was was placed face down on the table. The older man turned his head to the side so he could still breathe and he pulled on gloves.

Was he a doctor? Sam thought to himself.

What's he doing?

Around him, everything was beginning to get fuzzy. He saw Nick's mouth moving, and he knew that Nick was talking, but he couldn't hear him anymore.

Just then, Sam felt a prick in his arm.

The back dots that once swarmed around Sam's vision formed into black clouds. Soon, darkness was all Sam saw. But just as he let his eyes close, he wondered if there'd be anything left of him to save when Nick and his friends were through.


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's Note: _As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to review last chapter. I love hearing your thoughts, feeling, and predictions on the story. Thank you for telling me what you think and I hope you're still enjoying the story.

_Warning: _See any previous chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 12:**

Everything was fuzzy.

Slow...

A blur...

Sam lifted his head and almost instantly he felt someone push him back down. Something was keeping him on whatever he was lying on. At this point, he didn't remember much. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out of it. He wasn't sure where he was. He wasn't sure of anything.

In the background, there was talking; he was sure of that, but he couldn't tell who was actually in the room with him. The voices were distorted. He couldn't heat well, he couldn't see well, either. Everything was messed up. Sam tried to sit up, tried to move, but something was restricting him. The pain in his back was present, but it was blocked out just like the rest of his senses. Nothing was clear right now, and that's what scared Sam the most. He couldn't protect himself against what was happening around him. He wouldn't stop anyone from messing with him or anything.

Sam squeezed his hands into fists and loosened them slowly, trying to get the blood flowing into his body some more. Maybe then he'd become more alert.

The more Sam tried to keep his eyes open, the harder and harder it became.

He looked around the room he was in, but suddenly couldn't even remember how he got there. Where was he?

In that moment, Sam felt his heart skip a beat. How long had be been out of it? How long had he been bound to this bed? How long had he been in this hell hole? How long has it been since he last saw his brother? All of those questions Sam couldn't answer. His memory was all messed up right now.

Sam let out a deep breath and was shocked at the sudden, clear pain he felt in his stomach and back. It wasn't there before. Sam closed his eyes, hoping that the pain would subside, leaving him numb again. Numb was the best feeling right now. He couldn't feel the nervousness of being in a place like this. He couldn't feel the heartache of being away from his family this long. He couldn't feel the actual pain of all he'd been through. He couldn't feel the emotional pain of this whole ordeal and the aftereffects of it when his mind wandered.

A burst of pain ran through his body, Sam's back arched and he pressed his head into the pillow, squeezing his eyes shit again. He breathed in deeply, slowly, hoping it would go away once again. When it did, Sam was thankful. His breathing was slower, trying to gather all the strength he could, but there wasn't any. Everything he had as gone. Little by little his eyes were closing again and everything was fading even more. Sam tried to will himself to stay awake. He even ran though all the consequences of falling asleep in his head, but it didn't matter. Before he knew it his eyes had fluttered closed...

_"Sam...?"_

Sam's eyebrows scrunched together. Was someone there? The sound swarmed around in Sam's head echoing off the inside of his skull then back out through his ears, almost as if it was trying to awaken him. Sam groaned, trying to push his eyelids open again, but they seemed to be glued shut now.

_"Sam are you okay?"_

There it was again. Someone was here. Someone was calling him.

In the back of his mind, Sam prayed that it was Dean and maybe even his father coming to save him from this nightmare, but that somehow seemed unlikely. He knew that he was pretty much alone in this place. No one really cared for him unless he was making money or being used as a human punching bag. Sam had lost the feeling of being human. Everything here was so wrong. No one should be treated like this. No one should have to live through this.

_"Hey, c'mon."_

Almost as if it was magic, Sam's eyes peeled open again. The voice had triggered something in his mind, making his body function again. Even though his eyes were open, everything was still a little blurry. The light above him made the colors of the room seem to float and swirl together. He didn't even see anyone that could possibly be calling him. But then he felt a touch. A calloused hand rested on the side of his face, generating comfort. The touch suddenly made him feel safe, which was awkward to fell safe in a horrible place like this.

When the colors and images finally stopped swarming together, Sam was beginning to have his eyesight come into focus. In front of him, standing just to the side was a blonde headed boy with deep blue eyes. They were filled with concern. Sam could feel his hand on the side of his head. Again, Sam blinked as everything came together again.

"Austin?"

The boy nodded as he placed on finger over his lips, telling him to be quiet.

Sam cleared his throat. "What- what're you doing here?" he asked in a soft voice.

Austin looked around cautiously.

"I'm not supposed to be here, but I wanted to check on you; y'know, make sure you were alright."

Sam nodded. "Thank you."

Austin looked around again.

"Yeah, no problem."

"How long have I been in here?" Sam questioned, trying to get some type of grasp on the time.

Austin shrugged slightly. "Couple days, maybe three?" he guessed.

Sam groaned, inside, all he just wanted to do was go home. He felt Austin ruffle the side of his hair.

"Just hang in there, kid."

Turning to the side, Austin looked toward the door. Sam could tell he was going to have to leave soon, especially since he wasn't supposed to be here. If he didn't, he was going to be in a hell of a lot of trouble. But when he turned his face, Sam couldn't help but notice the deep red bruise just under his cheek. He tried to reach up, but Austin gently placed his hand back down.

"What happened?" Sam asked.

Austin was silent.

"Did that happen to you 'cause of me?" Sam asked, remembering that Austin didn't have a fresh bruise on his face like that when he had last saw him.

But still Austin was silent for a moment before he said,"Don't worry about me, alright. Just take care of yourself."

He began to walk away, but Sam reached out and grabbed his arm. At the moment, he didn't know why he did it, but he didn't want Austin to leave. His grip was stronger than he thought, and it pulled Austin back a few steps.

"Sam-"

Just then, the door swung open.

Austin froze.

Sam froze.

Everything froze.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" a voice boomed.

Nick's voice.

Sam felt his hand slip off Austin's wrist.

He saw Austin gulp hard, but he didn't answer.

Nick charged, grabbed Austin by the neck, and literally plowed him into the wall, smacking his head. Sam heard the sound of when his head made contact with the wall. Sam cringed.

With great force, Nick pressed down on the back of Austin's neck and literally forced him to the door. Sam craned his neck, trying to see what was happening, but his vision was restricted. The last thing he saw was Nick angrily pushing Austin out of the room and the pained look he had on his face.

* * *

So, what'cha think? Predictions? Thoughts?  
Please review!


	13. Chapter 13

_Author's Note: _Thanks so much for everyone who took the time to review. Seriously, thank you so much; I love hearing your thoughts on the story as it progresses. Please review, let me know what you think.

_Frequently Asked Question: Can you make the chapters longer?  
_- Honestly, I don't know if I can. Writing long chapters is not really what I do. I mean, I can try to expand the detail even more if you want. But I'm not sure. I don't know how to explain it. But If I made the chapters longer, it would be like putting two chapters together, then the story would end faster. But either way, I _tried _to make this chapter longer. Don't know how well that turned out, though. Guess you'll have to read and find out, huh?

_Warning: _See any previous chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 13:**

The week that followed was pure hell… the parts that Sam could remember, that is. Every once in a while he'd get flashbacks of Nick hauling Austin out of the room, but everything else from that day was a blur. Where had Nick taken him? Sam found himself more worried that he would've predicted. He cared about Austin, when it actually came down to it. He was the only one who actually took the time to treat Sam like a human. Austin had been the best person in this place since day one. He tried to warn Sam, protect him the best he could from what was ahead. Sam was thankful for Austin even if he was still technically a stranger to him. If something happened to Austin because of him, Sam wasn't sure if he could live with that.

After Austin was taken away, Sam had zoned out. It was different, though. Instead of everything going black, like it usually did, it went hot white. Everything had a haze around it. Sam was awake, but he wasn't really comprehending anything. It was more like a dream, he remembered.

Some people would come in and out of his room; more often now that Austin was caught sneaking in. The older man leaned over Sam every once in a while and gave him a weak smile. Sam had begun to become comfortable with the man's presence in the room, he didn't seem like he was going to cause any harm to him. If anything, he was healing him. This man was the one who had cleaned the wounds Nick had left on his body. He put a cold, water soaked cloth on his head when his fever spiked, he was the closest thing to a doctor in this place.

But then one day he did something suspicious. He had walked in, pulling a cart. Sam wasn't focused enough to pay close attention, but he did notice the man hovering over him. This time he didn't pass on the small smile, his face was emotionless. Almost regretful. He reached on the cart. Sam felt his arm begin outstretched. A weird feeling crawled across Sam's body. Something wasn't right. Even half conscious, Sam knew that the vibe the man was giving off wasn't a good one. Just then, there was pressure in his forearm. A pressure that wasn't too unfamiliar to Sam, but it still struck him by surprise. Sam's head turned to the side sleepily. He wanted to pull away, but he couldn't. His whole body felt paralyzed, so did his mind.

In the man's hand was a needle. Sam felt his eyebrows scrunch together, his weary mind not understanding. The man mouthed something. Words that looked like 'I'm sorry', before he walked out of the room.

Not too long after that, Sam could feel his heart speed up, then slow down in a weird pattern. Something was happening to him. His vision was even more blurry than it was a couple of seconds ago. Something was wrong. Little by little, his body began to relax, and he suddenly felt light. Light was a feather. Something was off. His head lulled back and forth and he broke out in a cold sweat. He'd never felt this way before… was he high? What had the man put into him? Sam was confused.

As time went on, Sam seemed to be trapped in his mind. Slowly, memories rolled around in his head like a slide show. Memories of him as a child.

_He was three, and Dean was crawling behind him, playing..._

_He was seven, on his first day of second grade, watching Dean pack his lunch..._

_He was thirteen, having his first kiss with Ginger Skies from his algebra class..._

_He was sixteen, finally able to go one a real-deal hunt with his father and brother, he was nervous..._

He closed his eyes, but the pictures remained. He sighed as his heart began to race again.

He didn't like this feeling...

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

When everything came back into focus Sam was still on the bed, but he didn't feel as loopy... but he wished he had. Everything hurt, way more than it did before. The sting in his back was at the highest intensity it had ever been. Sam wasn't sure if he couldn't take it. He squeezed his hands closed, tight, trying to fight the pain but it wasn't working. Right about now, he almost wished he still had those drugs. At least he didn't feel anything then.

The door had swung open. In came Nick and a man Sam didn't realize. His heart began to speed up a little. The look on Nick's face was exactly what Sam didn't want to see.

"Unhook him," Nick mumbled.

The man unlatched something that was around Sam's foot, something he didn't even realize was put on; but once it was off it was like a weight lifted. Nick cleared his throat as he pulled Sam into a sitting position. He ignored Sam's hissing as the open skin on his back stretched. Sam closed his eyes tight, biting his lip hard. He didn't make a sound. Nick only rolled his eyes. The other man stood close by, waiting for further directions. With his head, Nick gestured to a drawer.

"Get it."

The man, who still wasn't familiar to Sam walked to the desk Nick was sending him to. He opened it, and pulled out another needle. As soon as Sam was it he had mixed emotions. It would put him to sleep, he knew that. It would take the pain away... but it would also make him vulnerable. He couldn't fight back if he was unconscious. There was no upside to that. In the back of his mind Sam knew he didn't really have a choice.

Before he even finished the thought, there was another pinch in his arm. Within seconds, black dots transformed to back clouds, that turned into black seas, that eventually flooded his vision. Sam's body went lax, hung droopy over Nick's shoulder as he was lifted off the bed. Adjusting the boy on his shoulder, Nick says, "Y'know, I actually like you better this way. No need for all that resisting you usually do."

The man laughed as he watched Nick take Sam out of the room.

He had been removed from the room and back onto the wall where the rest of the captives were held. But Austin wasn't there. Sam couldn't help but feel an ache in his heart from worry. He truly hoped that he was okay.

He could think of anything else.

The only thing that was in his mind were two things: _I hope Austin's alright, and I hope Dean finds me soon._

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

5 days.

5 days, 4 hours, 47 minutes.

That's how long Sam has been in this place everyone would call hell. In that period, Sam was sold ten times.

Ten different people with no hearts, no souls, no dignity, and no shame.

Ten times Sam was dehumanized.

Ten times Sam lost another part of himself.

Ten times Sam got closer and closer to losing it.

When it was over, he was scooped up like a doll, tossed over the shoulder of whoever was sent to get him, and placed back on the floor. As time went on, Nick and his friends got clever. They knew Sam was going to fight back, hurt or not. They knew that Sam wasn't going to give up. Surely, he was the only one giving them trouble, so they handled him just like everyone else here.

"Drug 'em," was all Nick had said when he noticed Sam's struggles, and that's just what they did. Day in a day out, just like the rest of the captives. Sam now understood why they were all so calm here. They were all too high to do pretty much anything. All of them were literally turned into human toys. It was the saddest thing.

The scars on Sam's back were just beginning to heal. His body, in general, was trying to recover; but his mind was somewhere else completely. Sam couldn't focus . Not ever. Ever since they started giving him the drugs daily, nothing seemed real. He couldn't remember anything clearly. Sometimes, he didn't even know if he was fed anything that day. Nothing was certain anymore, and that's something that scared Sam as the days dragged on. He couldn't remember how long he'd been here, how long it had been since he'd last seen Austin, how long it's been since he'd last seen his family.

Sam was beginning to lose whatever was left of his mind.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

"I need to get outta here," Leo says to Damien as they both sit in the backroom. He tilts back in his chair intertwining his fingers aimlessly.

Damien shrugs, letting him know that he really doesn't care. He's looking at a computer screen at Leo can't see from his angle. All he can see is his hand on the mouse clicking on something ever so often. There was something about Damien lately that was different. He clears his throat.

"Then go."

Leo frowned, rolling his eyes.

"What's up with you, man? You haven't been the same lately." Leo adjusts himself in the chair when he feels himself slipping.

Damien shrugs. "I don't know what you mean, man."

There was silence. The only sound that was heard was the clicking of the mouse and the ticking of the clock on the wall behind Damien.

Leo stood, walking behind the desk, and hitting Damien's shoulder.

"C'mon man, let's get outta here. I'm sick of staying here, I need to see something else. Come on!"

Damien groaned as he stood, not really waning to leave. He wasn't in the mood to do anything at all, but he knew that Leo would never stop bugging him until he did what he asked. Plus, a couple hours out of this place might do him some good.

"And where exactly are we going?" he asked halfheartedly.

Leo though for a second, then his eyes lit up, snapping his fingers.

"Lets go to that diner... we haven't been there in ages. I could use one of their cheeseburgers."

Damien didn't answer. He just simply shrugged as he and Leo left.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Everyday, no matter what, John and Dean waited at that diner. The woman said they were practically regulars, so they had to come back. They just _had _to.

Even though they didn't know the woman well at all, they seemed to have faith in her. They kind of had to. She was the only solid, and definite lead they had. Or that Dean knew of. By the fact that they kept coming back, she knew they meant business, whatever that business was. Each day started the same: the two guys would come in, take a seat at the diner's bar and the woman would come over to them.

"The usual?" she'd ask as John nods slowly.

Within minutes, she'd come back with two cups of coffee and two omelets for them. She noticed that Dean only ate half of his, sometimes he just picked at it taking a few bites, other days he didn't eat it at all. There was something seriously bothering him. It was sad to her. He was young. He was handsome. He had a life to live. He should be out having a good time like the rest of the kids his age. But obviously this was more important to them. Many of times she had thought about asking them what their reasons were for being here every morning and why were they so interested in this guy names Damien, but she decided against it.

About an hour passed. An hour of almost pure silence.

Every once in a while a couple of hungry customers would come it, but they were scattered around the diner, giving everyone ample space for privacy. Once she was finished taking the orders, the woman would go back to behind the counter where the father and son were sitting.

Now, don't get her wrong, the woman wasn't eavesdropping or anything, but she heard their whole conversation. But this is how she heard everything:

"Dad," the boy had said, hitting the older man's shoulder. "We need to get out of here. Seriously."

"Dean, you know-"

"Yes, I know why we're here," Dean answered back in a hushed tone. "But sitting here isn't gonna find Sam. It's already been a week ; even though it seems like a hell of a lot longer than that.. God knows what's happening to him right now... and I know you know something. It's kept you up every night since Sammy's been missing."

The father had looked away then, obviously his son had struck a nerve or found out something before he was ready for him to know. He exhaled deeply.

"Dad," Dean presses. There was a silence. "Please. I know you say you keep stuff from us to protect us... but, please. I need to know if you've found out something. It's Sam, Dad. I can't take not knowing."

Again silence.

The woman shifted on her feet with the coffee pot in her hand. She tried to look away, tried to go see if anyone else needed something, but now she was interested.

The dad leaned closer.

"These people, the ones that have Sam, they're bad people, Dean. Really bad."

Dean shrugged. "I can see that."

The father shook his head. "No, you don't understand. The kind of business they're in... all of these people deserve to be executed."

The woman watched as Dean searched his father's eyes for an answer, a hint, something.

"Dad, what?" Dean asks, his voice even softer now.

The dad opened his mouth...

"That's him!" the woman called up, looking at the car pulling up.

Out of a red truck came two mean. One with a shaved head , the other with a full head of hair. The woman came over to them quickly.

"That's him," she says again. "That's Damien."

Dean could already feel his hands balling into fists.


	14. Chapter 14

_Author's Note: _Thank you so much for all the feedback. I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long for this chapter and I hope you enjoy it, too. Thank you so much for sticking with his story and for telling me how you feel as the story progresses. I love hearing your thoughts, so please continue to do so.

Also, for all of you who wanted longer chapters: I think this is the longest I've written so far. It has the most words, that is.

_Warning: _See any previous chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 14:**

"Dean, you've gotta leave," were the first words out of John's mouth. His eyes screamed urgency and the grip that he had on Dean's arm let him know that he was serious. John looked back quickly at the men, then stood up, blocking their view of Dean the best he could. Dean opened his mouth, ready to argue, but John didn't even allow him to begin. He tightened his hand around Dean's arm.

"You were there when they took Sam, right? So that means they saw you. I can't guarantee they'll remember you, but I'm not willing to take that chance. Do you understand me?" Dean didn't even begin to answer. He knew he shouldn't. It wasn't the first time he was getting a speech like this delivered to him and the rapidness in which his father was speaking was telling him that he didn't really have a choice when all of this is said and done. "Now go. To the bathroom, to the back of the diner, out through the back and into the parking lot, hell, go in the kitchen; but I don't want you to be seen." John scanned deep into Dean's eyes for a moment before adding , "Go, Dean," with a slight push.

Reluctantly, Dean took a few steps backward. His mind was racing fast, but everything else seemed to be moving in slow motion. He kept his face at an angle away from the see-through glass, metal lined double doors at the entrance and forced his eyes to stay down. He quickly made a decision to break for the kitchen. It'll be best there. Just in case one of the men roamed around for a minute and happened to see him in some other part of the diner. His initial thought was to go for the bathroom, but he had decided against it. What if one of them had to use it? Then Dean would be cornered, they'd have a scuffle, the whole plan would be ruined, and then Sam's life line would really be hanging in the balance.

John slid down two seats from where he and Dean were previously stationed. Dean flipped up the collar to his deep black jacket, having it cover just to the brim of his nose. He walked as calm and nonchalantly as he could as he stepped behind the counter and into the kitchen. The woman gave him a weird look, almost as if she was going to try and direct him in the other direction, but when John raised his eyebrows at her, she was quiet once again. Dean slipped though the doors and was suddenly out of sight.

Behind then, the door squeaked a little as it was opened, murmurs of the men flooded into the diner as they approached the bar.

Both of the men were tall. Taller than Sam, John, and Dean. But not too much of a challenge. From the corner of his eye, John was sizing them up, thinking of a smooth way to make into their conversation without being too obvious. It was then when it hit harder on him how much he wanted Sam back, just how much he loved him despite all of their arguments ; he was so careful about his actions now, knowing that one little slip up could cost his son his life. John had never felt this way before. Sure, he always had responsibility; he always took more blame than he should, but this was like the whole weight on his shoulders was getting harder and harder to hold.

One of the men had a bald head and tattoos on his arm. He slammed his hand down on the table and waited for the woman to approach them.

"Damien," she greeted to the other one. She gestured to the open tables all around. "Just pick somewhere. I'll be there in a second."

Both men just nodded and talked to the left of John. He could literally feel the hate and anger heat up his body, probably turning his face deep red. His fingers curled at his sides slowly as he pictured in his head all the ways he could kill them. John smirked.

He watched as the men took a seat, completely unaware that they were being watched. John cleared his throat, and stood. He didn't know how he was gonna do it, but he needed to think of something fast. John thinks better on his feet and under pressure, so he stood and headed to their table. He stood right in front of them.

"'Morning boys," he says , finally getting a clear look at the men who had his son.

Both of the men looked up, a confused look on their face.

"You need something, man?" the man with the bald head asked, exchanging looks with his partner across the table. John cracks his knuckles, turning to the man on his right and pointing with his index finger.

"You Damien?" he questions, keeping his voice calm.

The man shrugs.

"What's it to you?"

John shifted on his feet. Very slyly, he peeked out of the corner of his eyes, making sure Dean was staying out of right. Dean took orders well, but this was about Sam. Sam was in danger, so it wouldn't surprise him if Dean bolted out of the back room and over to the table, demanding information. But on the other hand, Dean wouldn't do anything to put Sam in more danger than he already was. He knew to stay in the back. He wouldn't risk Sam's life like that.

"I'm heard of you… from a friend," John answered. He and Damien held a stare for a number of seconds before Damien finally looked away. Clearly, he was more nervous than John was ; was worse at hiding it, too.

Damien cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head. "What friend?"

Pressing his lips together , John shook his head. "I know he's prefer if I didn't say. But he told me all about you. I know what you do…"

Again, the two men exchanged glances.

"He'd bought from us?" Damien asked, lifting his chin to John, trying to show a little more authority and self-encouragement in himself.

John nodded. "Once or twice, I assume."

"And you wanna buy?" Leo jumped in, his eyebrows raised. John's only response was a twitch of his nose.

Damien scooted over further towards the window, leaving an open space. He leaned with his head and outstretched his arm. "Take a seat," was the only thing he said.

John didn't hesitate. He couldn't. If he even gave off the vibe of being suspicious, a fake, or a non-buyer, everything would be ruined. It was intense, especially since John figured out exactly what type of people they were and what they did. When he first heard it, it made his stomach churn. Then the thought of his son being held in a place like that made his stomach churn _and _made his heart ache. The fury that he felt in that moment was something like he'd never felt before. His hands tightened, so did his feet. His face was hot as if he was running a high fever; he literally felt sick. Like he could throw up any second.

Bobby had called with this information a few days ago. John could tell that it was eating him up, too. His voice was quivering a little as he explained to John just what type of hell Sam was in.

"… they take random people, from what I can see. I guess anyone who they think will make them a lot of money. Then they sell' em-" Bobby's voice broke off. He had pulled the phone from his ear, cleared his throat, and wiped his eye.

At that time, John was frozen. "Sell them?" was his only response. He knew what it meant, but he didn't and to hear it.

"Sell them," Bobby repeated. "…well, their bodies," he corrected himself. "They sell them for sex, John."

As he sat there with them, Bobby's words rang in the back of his mind.

"_They sell them. They sell them for sex, John…"_

Leo cleared his throat as fingers snapped before John's eyes. He blinked hard.

"I _said _how'd you know we'd be here?"

John shrugged. "I didn't," he admitted. "I just got lucky, I guess."

Silence rushed over the table as the elderly lady approached the table. The smile on her face was a weary one, but it was there. She kept her hands in the front pockets of the apron she wore around her waist as she headed for their table. But before she even got within a ten foot radius Leo put his hand up.

"Would you mind giving us ten minutes, sweetheart?" he asked, quickly looking at Damien and John before putting on a face that said he insisted that she left immediately. The woman didn't answer. She simply spun on her heel, putting her back in the direction she came.

Damien tapped his hand on the table. "So when are you looking to buy?"

John shrugged again. "As soon as possible. Today?"

The salesmen exchange glances. It was almost unnoticeable, but John saw Leo shake his head 'no' ever-so-slightly.

"How 'bout tomorrow? You pick the time," Damien suggested.

As quickly as he could John figured it out. In a way he was happy that they couldn't do it tonight, despite the urgency and the yearning for wanting Sam back. Bobby's been driving since yesterday to come meet them.. He'd be here tomorrow anyway. But that didn't matter. Time didn't matter. John would barge in there by himself if it gave him a chance at getting Sam back. But doing it by himself would be challenging, but not impossible. Bobby and Dean would make things go a lot easier. But Bobby probably would be there until after seven at night.

"… well?" Leo pushed, waiting for a time stated by John.

"How 'bout 7:30?"

"Morning or evening?" Damien questioned.

"Evening."

Again a silence fell, but it was quickly picked back up again.

"So what's your name?" Leo asked, eyeing John skeptically.

John cleared his throat. "Mike," he says. "Mike Gregory."

Damien and Leo both nodded their greetings. Damien motioned to the man across the table. "That's Leo."

John only looked in his direction.

Leo leaned back, rubbing his mouth. "So… what're you into?"

John was silent.

Leo smirked. "Guys or girls," he clarified.

Almost instantly, John felt sick again. How was he supposed to hold a conversation about something was horrible as this. He cleared his throat, rubbing his eye. He couldn't think of it like that. He just couldn't. He was playing a role, doing what he had to do to get his son back.

"What're you looking to buy tomorrow? Maybe I could tell Nick to set 'em aside for you. Y'know, so you get exactly what you pay for."

John looked down at the table. "Male," he says.

Leo's eyebrows arched. "Older than twenty-five?"

Shaking his head, John answers, "Younger."

Damien chuckles. "You like 'em young." He pats John's shoulder. "Me, too."

In that moment, John felt he was going to snap. What if he'd hurt Sam? What if he touched Sam? What if-

_Stop it! _John demanded himself. He couldn't let himself think like that. Not now. He was so close to sealing the deal. John refused to let his emotions get the best of him now. Nothing's done, nothing's been won.

Damien retracted his hand and nodded. "I think I can have a little line up for you. How much you got?"

John was quiet for a second, trying to think of an amount that sounded plausible.

"1.5 thousand."

Damien and Leo yet again exchanged glances. "That's good. Really good. Nick's gonna like you."

"Who's Nick?" John asked, trying to get as much information he could.

"The boss," Damien said. "But all that isn't important. We'll see you tomorrow. Be here at seven. We'll escort you."

John nodded, standing up from the table. "I can't wait," was John emotionless reply as he walked away from the table. He walked in the direction of the counter where the woman was waiting patiently for the conversation to be over. John gestured to the kitchen door, instructing her to get Dean. Without looking back, John exited the diner with his heart racing.

He was getting Sam back tomorrow. His son was coming home no matter what happens.


	15. Chapter 15

_Author's Note: _Thanks for all your reviews and feedback, I enjoy reading them and hearing your thoughts. So thank you for sharing. So, without further ado, I present to you: Chapter 15.

_A special thanks to :_** yourdorkisabel **_ for being my 200th reviewer. Thank you to each and every one of you that took the time to write your review and to everyone who has taken an interest in this story. Also, a big thank you to: _**ShhUrDead678 **_ for your beautiful, beautiful review. To be honest, I thought you were upset with me because of the length, but when I realized that you weren't I was really happy. Don't be afraid to send long reviews. I read each and every word you write to me. _

_Warning: _See any previous chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 15:**

John stood up slowly, holding his hands to his son who was pacing back and forth, his face turning red. Just seconds ago John had explained to him where Sam was and what was happening to him. In all honesty, John did his best to sugar code it. He didn't want Dean to lose it, not at least until after they had gotten Sam back. Dean's reaction was pretty much the opposite of what he wanted and predicted. John had expected the anger, there was no getting around that. But he didn't expect the yelling, the pacing, or the tears.

"You need to calm down," John ordered. There wasn't sympathy in his voice at the moment, it wasn't an option. Dean needed to calm down. They had a mission to do in less that twenty-four hours and if he wasn't up for it, John wasn't going to let him go. Reaching out, John grabbed Dean's shoulders and gripped them tight, making their eyes meet.

Dean's face was red, his eyes cloudy. "Calm down? Dad… those _monsters _have my brother- your son!- and you're telling me to calm down? What's wrong with you?" His eyes expanded large, then squeezed shut tight. He tried to pull back, get lose of his father's grip, but he couldn't.

John sighed. "I know," was his response. "I know this is hard. I know you're scared, I know you're worried, and I know you want revenge; but we have to take this one step at a time, alright? If you get yourself too worked up, you won't be able to think straight. We're gonna get Sam back, don't doubt that. But it'll go a hell of a lot easier if we're calm about this."

"But Dad-"

"No," John cut him off, still keeping his voice as steady as he could. "None of that, okay? I know what's happening to Sammy and it's killing me. Believe me, it is; but I can't let what I'm feeling get in the way of what I have to do."

Dean's eyes hardened. "Are you this afraid to show your emotions? What the hell, dad? Do you even hear yourself? _' You can't let what you're feeling get in the way of what you have to do ' ? _That's what you've been saying since we were kids. Every time you would miss a birthday or one of us was sick. You're like some walking , talking robot!"

John froze. He knew that this wasn't Dean talking. It was his fear, his urgency to get Sam back, but it still hit John on the heart. This was not what he needed to hear right now. This is not the words that were going to keep him focused. With that, he let go of Dean's shoulders and turned his back to him. He could feel Dean turning away, too.

Without a word, John walked from the kitchen area and into the bathroom.

"Bobby should be here sometime tomorrow," he commented softly before closing the door.

He tried to fight it, he really did but he couldn't help it. His mind flooded with thoughts of Sam, where he was, and what could be happening to him. John shook his head, trying to make the thoughts disappear but it didn't help.

There was no getting away from it.

John put his head down on the edge of the sink, squeezed his eyes shut tight, and cried.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

**An hour before John is scheduled to meet...**

Bobby pulled into the parking lot of the motel address he was given. He got out of the car and quickly found the room quickly and banged on the door, he feared he was late. Almost immediately, thought, Dean answered the door. His face was as emotionless as a rock, he said nothing but a mere, "Hey Bobby", as he stepped back to let him inside of the toom. Bobby nodded to him, opening his arms to embrace him. Dean fell into the older man's arms for a moment before pulling back.

"Where's John?" Bobby asked, moving further into the room.

Dean gestured into the bathroom area.

"He's been in there forever. I don't know what he's doing. Whenever I call to him he says he's fine, he just needs time to think or something."

Bobby raised an eyebrow.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know either," he says with a roll of his eyes.

Walking to the door, Bobby bangs on it. "John, c'mon. We're running out of time. Get your ass out here!"

Not even a second went by before John emerged from the bathroom. His face had a slight red tinge to it, so did his eyes. Both Bobby and Dean could tell he'd been crying. Instantly, Dean felt bad about what he'd said earlier.

"So that's the plan?" Bobby asked, walking side by side with John. "Where _is _a plan, right?"

John nodded, taking the time to smile slightly at Bobby. "Of course there's a plan."

They all sat down in the kitchen area. Dean chose to sit on the counter while the two older men took a seat at the kitchen table across from one another.

"Dean and I are going to drive to the diner together. Dean, you'll be in the back. "I'll pull up and get out. I assuming they're wanting to take me in their car-"

"But if they're not?" Dean chimed in.

"If not, then you'll have to stay hidden in the back until we get there. One look at you and the whole thing will be ruined," John answered before turning back toward Bobby. "You'll be following at a good distance behind us. It'll be dark, so I'd advise you go without your headlights on, you'll only draw attention to yourself." Bobby nodded. "When we get there, I'll go inside with them. They think I'm a buyer, so I'll be in the middle of all the action. Wait for my call before you guys come in, alright. I wanna find Sam and get him somewhere safe first."

Both Bobby and Dean nodded in agreement.

"Everything else in between is just minor details. Be smart. Act fast. No one in that place survives that doesn't deserve to, understand?" John orders.

Again, they nod.

John stands; so do the other men.

"Let's go, boys."

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Damien and Leo had pulled up just in time. John was actually shocked how precise they were. If he wasn't going to kill them in about an hour, he'd be impressed. As soon as they got out of their car, John did, too. He met them halfway with a fake, forced smile on his face.

"Afternoon," Damien greeted with a nod.

John nodded back.

Leo didn't waste any time he gestured with his head back to their car.

"C'mon lets go."

John walks with them to their car, getting in the back seat. He doesn't look back at the Impala that had Dean laying flat in the back seat or back in the opposite direction that held Bobby awaiting patiently for them to depart.

Damien put the key in the ignition, starting the car. John could feel his heart start to race, anxiety building.

_This is gonna be a long night _, he thought just as the car pulled off and back on to the road.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

The smell that hit John in the face was nauseating. He covered his mouth for a second, hoping that his senses adjust to it quickly. He coughs a little, blinking a few times. Both Damien and Leo look back at him for a second, but neither of them said anything. John looked around surveying the place. He was shocked at the size of the warehouse, but he didn't let that bother him.

John was escorted up some stairs and onto a ground level. That's when he felt his mouth drop. All around, on all the walls were numbers of people with their hands chained above them. All of the captives had their head down as if they were all in a deep sleep. It seemed like they were all breathing in unison. John was disgusted at the living conditions here, even though he'd never expected it to be some mansion. Everything had a dirty tinge to it. It was horrible to just step foot in here, his heart ached for anyone who actually had to be kept here.

Damien turned back to John.

"Wait here for a second, I'v gotta get Nick," he says as he jogs up another flight of stairs and disappears.

It didn't take long for him to return. Really, it wasn't over a minute. But in that minute, John imagined just about every way he could kill Leo; just standing there alone.

Just then, two sets of feet came jogging down the stairs. John could only assume the other was Nick.

John felt his blood boil.

"This way," was all Nick said, leading the group.

John was escorted in front of a group of boys that all looked pretty damn similar. Beside the slight difference in hair, they all looked the same. Quickly, John ex-ed out any of the boys with light hair or short hair. Obviously, they weren't Sam. They each had numbers hooked to the pocket of they jeans or whatever they were wearing as bottoms. Each of the boys were shirtless, John watched as each of them inhaled and exhaled dangerously slow. Squinting a little, John tried to figure out if any of them were Sam.

"See anything you like?" Damien asked.

John shrugged.

"Can I see their faces?" John asked as calmly as he could.

Damien looked at Leo, who looked at Nick. Nick simply shrugged in a 'I don't care' kind of manner. Leo went up to the boys. He started at number 1. There were only 11 boys chained there. If Sam wasn't there, there'd be a whole new set of problem for John, Dean, and Bobby to handle.

John looked up at #1 ; that wasn't Sam.

Leo move over.

#2 , #3, and #4 wasn't him, either.

One look at #5, and John could tell that he wasn't him, either. That boy had blonde hair.

Numbers 6 and 7 wasn't him either.

He hated to admit it, but John was beginning to give up hope.

But when Leo lifted up #8's head, he felt his heart stop.

Sam.

That was Sam.

He wan't to run to him, killing everyone in his path, but he had to keep it together. He couldn't do anything just yet. John had to keep quiet, he didn't want to be too obvious. So instead of saying anything, he let Leo finish. After he had let go of #11, he looked back up at John and the others.

"Well..." Nick says, waiting for John's answer.

John clears his throat.

"Number eight," he says. "I want to buy number eight."

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Nick held Sam in his arms was he lead they way upstairs and to a room. John found himself in a mix between anger, worry, and hatred. He kept himself pretty close to Nick, only so he could see Sam more closely. And what he saw didn't look good.

In his mind, he noted the way he came and that he stopped at the third door on the right. He'd need to tell Dean later.

With one hand, Nick opened the door to the room.

Inside was just a bed and a nightstand. Nothing else. No windows, nothing. What John did notice was there were the heavy chains on the side of the bed that Nick carried Sam to. Nick dropped Sam to the bed violently, but Sam didn't even make a sound. That worried John. Sam had been dangerously still since John had first laid eyes on him. Something was wrong.

Nick stood up, after putting the chain around Sam's wrist, and tapped John's shoulder.

"Nice choice, man," Nick gestured to Sam's still form on the bed. "He's a good one."

John only had to contain himself for a few more seconds.

"I'll sen Damien up in about forty-five minutes, alright?"

Nick made his way toward the door.

"Hey Nick," John called out.

Just as Nick turned around, John had caught him in the side of his head with fist. Nick stumbled backward into the doorframe. Nick didn't even have time to call out or protect himself before John slammed his head into the door. Nick's eyes fluttered shut as John dragged him back into the room and closed the door.

After tossing Nick into the corner of the room and making sure the door was locked John rushed over to Sam.

"Sam? Sammy, look at me," John called, his hand resting on Sam's cheek. John felt his heart speed up when Sam was unresponsive.

John shook his head.

He had to unchain Sam first before anything.

Using the lock pick he had stored in his pocket, John quickly fumbled with the heavy metal until he heard the click and it slid off Sam's wrist.

John dropped the pick and took a seat on the side of the bed.

He stopped Sam into his arms, feeling all his emotion flood over him.

"I'm so sorry," John whispered, rocking back and forth. "I'm sorry you had to go through this."

Sam was still silent, but John could feel his chest rising and falling slowly.

John reached into his back pocket, pulling out his phone. He dialed Dean's number.

"Come on," was the only thing he said and he knew that Dean and Bobby were already bursting through the door. John's only order: kill who deserved to be killed.

After pushing his phone back into his pocket, he tried to evaluate Sam.

Sam was limp in his arms, his head resting in the space between John's shoulder and the center of his chest. John shook his a little.

"C'mon, son, open your eyes."

John pated Sam's back, but froze when he felt Sam's body tense up and saw his face scrunch in pain. When John looked, there were deep red, livid slashes on his back. They zig-zagged every which way. John had to keep himself calm.

Taking John's shoulders, he let Sam back down on the bed. John reached down, lifting Sam's eye lid. His pupils were dilated, as big a saucers. His face was still. John checked the rest of him. Besides the whipping scars on his back and sides, everything looked alright.

But that's when John discovered the needle marks on Sam's arm.

"Damn it," he cursed.

That had explained everything.

Sam wasn't waking up because he had been drugged.

In the background, Nick began to stir. He was waking. John stood, making his way over to him.

"What the hell is your problem?" Nick scolded, trying to sit up. Jeohn's only response was a hard kick to the ribs. He smiled in satisfaction when he heard the snapping of a bone. Nick doubled over in pain.

"My problem?" John's voice was cold and calm. "What's your problem, you sick fuck. You are the lowest type of person on this planet. You don't even deserve the air you're breathing right now."

Nick laughed.

"I'm the sick one? You're the one who just bought a kid. A kid you were about to have sex with, just like every other person in here."

John felt his stomach churn.

"He's my son you bastard."

Nick was silent.

John reached into the back of his belt, bringing out his pistol.

The expression in Nick's eyes changed.

John didn't even hesitate.

"You picked the wrong kid to take," John says just as he pulls the trigger, watching it find the center of Nick's forehead, staining the wall behind him.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Dean and Bobby watched as the life left Leo's body and he slumped forward in his chair.

"You guys are fucking crazy!" Damien cried as Bobby backed him into corner, the shotgun aimed at his stomach.

Bobby shook his head. "No, we're just simply your worst nightmare."

He shot twice, watched as Damien's body flew to the wall and slid to the floor.

Dean and Bobby exchanged glances.

"Do you know where your father is?"

Dean shook his head, taking out his phone.

"Dad? You okay?"

There was silence.

"You've found Sam?"

Again silence.

"... he's okay, right?"

The look on Dean's face was not a good one.

"Well, do you know where you're at?"

More silence.

"Okay, we're coming."

Bobby held his hand out. "Well?"

Dean pointed upward.

"He's upstairs, third door on the right."

Bobby nodded. "Well what're we waiting for?"

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Just as Dean and Bobby were going upstairs, someone was coming down. The guy had blonde hair. He was shirtless, and shoe-less, also. Dean cocked his gun and the boy stopped raising his hands.

"Whoa, whoa, take it easy," the boy says.

Dean noticed that the boys was hunched over a little, his arm was wrapped around his stomach. This guy wasn't gonna hurt anyone, that was apparent. Dean put his gun down.

Bobby and Dean moved closer to him.

"What's happening? You're here to save us?"

The men exchange looks.

"Yeah, we're here to save you."

The boy smiled, a relieved look took over his face, then tears.

"Thank you," was all he could say.

Bobby nodded, reaching out for him. "Yeah, come on, come with us."

Dean looked back at him. "What's you're name, kid?"

The blonde headed boy's eyes met Dean's.

"My name is Austin."

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Dean, John, and Bobby did a clean sweep of that place.

When they were finished, they were exhausted.

Dean had insisted on being the one to carry Sam back outside and out of this hell hole.

"What about everyone else in here? All these poor people?" Dean had asked.

John nodded.

"Once we're a good enough distance away, we'll call the cops. We'll tell the we heard gunshots, possibly a murder. They'll come. They'll help whoever's in there."

Dean gestured to Austin who was a few feet behind. "What about him?"

John shrugged.

"Who is he?"

"He said his name is Austin. From what he told me and Bobby, he was looking out for Sam while he was here. He seems like a good guy."

John shrugged again.

"I guess he's coming with us."

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

With John in the drivers seat and Austin in the passeneger, Dean sat with Sam in the back.

They laid him out, flat on his back across the seat, his head resting in Dean's lap.

"Where to now? Hospital?"

John was silent for a moment. He looked over at Austin we had already fallen asleep and back at Sam who had been unconscious since they've found him, and shook his head.

"Hospitals are too crowded. Too many people. And too many stories we'd have to make up for all they're scars and the condition they're in."

Dean shook his head.

"Then to where?"

"Bobby's got a friend. Used to be a hunter. He's got a damn good medical background, too. We can go there. He'll take care of Sammy for us, let him recover at his own speed. He can take a look at Austin, too."

Dean nodded, turning his attention back to his brother.

He carded is fingers through Sam's hair feeling tears forming him his eyes again.

Dean pulled Sam closer, whispering to him, "You're safe now. No one's gonna hurt you anymore."

* * *

Well, how's that for a rescue?  
It's not over yet...

Please review!


	16. Chapter 16

_Author's Note: _Thank you, thank you, thank you so much to everyone who took the time to review last chapter. I really appreciate it. I hope you're satisfied with the way things are turning out and I hope you're eager to see how this will all come to a close. Though, there's still a few more chapters to be written and read.

_Warning: _Everything that you needed to be warned about is pretty much gone, but see any previous chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 16:**

After two full hours of driving, it worried Dean and John that Sam still hadn't woken up. Neither of them spoke their fear, but they both were thinking the same thing. Something was up. Because of the fact they didn't know exactly what Sam was injected with, it made it all the more scary that he hadn't at least opened his eyes yet. Austin was fast asleep, too. It was weird to John how comfortable he was with complete strangers. The way he went to sleep almost instantly was surprising to him, but maybe it was from pure exhaustion and relief that caused his body to shut down so quickly.

John sighed as he pulled into the driveway of the house. It was more elaborate than he thought. A little more put together than he thought. John had never met this man before. Hell, he didn't even know his name; but Bobby had made the suggestion to come here after rescuing Sam. Bobby had said his friend could help, could make sure Sam got all the medical attention he needed, no questions asked. And that was just what John needed.

Bobby was closed behind them, his headlights shining through the back window of the Impala. They came to a full stop and the lights shut off. Now everything was pitch black, they had to wait a moment or two for their eyes to adjust to the lack of light. They barely could see anything. John was the first one out of the car. He opened the back door to help Dean get Sam out. Bobby could be heard coming behind them. His boots crushing the stiff leaves and broken sticks under his feet. He rounded the back and went toward the passenger seat go get Austin. He tapped on the window before pulling the door open. John watched as Bobby gently laid his hand on Austin's shoulder, shaking him a little.

"You get out first," John instructed, turning his attention back to his sons, "then we'll ease him out, okay?"

Dean was silent, but obedient. He lifted Sam's head slowly, being as careful as he could. Even though he looked fine, there was no telling what was actually wrong with him. Something could be broken, even if they couldn't see it. Once Dean was out of the car, John crouched down, grabbing Sam under his arms, sliding him out slowly. Dean was there, ready to lift him up into his arms once he was out of the car far enough.

Austin was just stepping out of the car, Bobby at his side, escorting him toward the house.

"Where are we?" Austin asked, his voice tired. He rubbed his eyes, looking around the driveway they were standing in. He took note that it looked like they were in the middle of nowhere. Deep in the woods, far from any other human life. Austin shivered, wrapping his arms around his naked torso as the cool wind swirled around him sending chills through his body.

"We're at a friend's house. Someone who's gonna take care of you and Sam, make sure you're all right, okay?"

Wearily, Austin nodded. He walked sluggishly next to Bobby who held his forearm just in case he lost his balance. Behind them just by a few steps were Dean and John. Again, Dean had taken it upon himself to carry Sam to the door. John made sure he came close by. From the corner of his eye, he saw John pulling his jacket off of his shoulders and draping it over Sam's upper half and over Dean's arms that were wrapped around his brother. In the back of his mind, Bobby wondered why they hadn't put something on Sam earlier, but he decided to keep his observations silent for now.

The wind was crisp, whipping past the men as they approached the door. Bobby got there first. With a heavy hand, he knocked on the door, waiting a few moments.

"Does he even know we're coming?" Dean asked. He glanced down at Sam for a second before his eyes met Bobby's. Bobby nodded.

"I told him it was a possibility, so he's prepared just in case we need him."

Dean's nod was his only response.

A moment later, the heavy door swung open. A man with dark hair opened the door. He was younger than Dean had expected. The doctor was probably somewhere in his mid-forties. Dean noted the way his eyes expanded for a second, but he didn't say anything except, "Come in, come in," as he took a few steps back for everyone to enter.

The door closed and the doctor pointed down the hall.

"There's a room on the left. All the way down that hall. There's two beds in there."

Dean nodded. He looked over at Austin and gestured down the hall.

"C'mon," he says to the blonde headed boy. "You've got a bed waiting for you."

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Just as Dean lowered Sam onto the big, full sized bed, the doctor was entering the room with John and Bobby following close behind. Austin took a seat on the bed across from Sam. Almost immediately he put his head down, staring at the floor. Dean wanted to ask what was wrong, honestly it was his first instinct, but his instinctive to take care of Sam overpowered that. Instead, he turned to the doctor who held his hand out for Dean to shake. It caught him off guard for a moment.

"I'm Dr. Dillon. But you can just call me Mark. Mark's fine."

Dean smirked.

"I'm Dean."

Mark nodded. "I figured." He glanced down at Sam who still lay unmoving on the bed. "So that must be Sam."

Dean didn't answer. He didn't feel the need to.

Looking back at John, Mark asked, "Mind if I go and examine him?"

Holding his hand out, John responded, "Please."

Mark grinned a little as he scooted his way past Dean and closer to Sam. "It's required to ask... well, it's actually more of a habit, really. I won't do anything without your permission first," the older man promised. John nodded at him.

"I appreciate that."

Leaning over Sam, Mark pressed his index and middle fingers to the sides of Sam's neck, pressing a little. He held it there for a minute as the room fell silent. Dean looked down at the floor, catching glimpse of the doctor's foot tap sluggishly, like he was keeping time in a marching band.

"... his pulse it slow," Mark mumbled under his breath, almost as if not to say it aloud, but Dean caught on.

Dean and John exchanged looks.

"Is that bad?" Dean asked, his eyebrows scrunching together momentarily.

He saw the doctor's shoulders shrug. "Not necessarily. The pulse tends to slow down, sometimes almost dangerously when the body is completely relaxed. That may be the reason; it may not. But I'll figure it all out."

Dean was silent, continuing to watch Sam get checked. Again, silence fell upon the room giving everyone a chance to drown in their own thoughts. He couldn't help but wonder how Sam was - mentally, that is - now that he's out of the place. The generally happy little brother that was taken from him a week and a half ago was probably long gone. It scared Dean to think that the old Sam may never come back. What happened to him, what he was forced to go through, its not just something that people are able to bounce back from. This would take time; Dean wasn't sure how much, but he was willing to wait a lifetime.

"Here, drink this. You need it," John says gently to Austin, handing him a bottle of water. Dean blinked, not even realizing that his father had left the room and came back. Looking over his shoulder he watched Austin's bruised hand wrap around the bottle. He nodded in thanks, unscrewing the cap and brining the brim of it to his lips, taking a long gulp. Dean wondered if they had clean water where they were held.

Mark cleared his throat, getting everyone's attention again. "His left wrist seems to be fractured or put out of place. I'll have to put a soft cast on it so he doesn't hurt it anymore later on... but look at this," he says, waving his other hand slightly, brining John and Dean closer. "His wrists are all slashed and bruised. They've got deep red ring encircling them," Mark stated.

"We were chained up so we'd stay in place," Austin chimed in, rubbing the side of his head. He placed the bottle on the nightstand between the bed he was sitting on and the bed Sam was lying on and held out his wrists, showing the rest of the men in the room his own scars. "I have them, too."

Mark sighed. "But Sam's... it's like they were pulled too tight or had some type of extra weight on them. Sam's not a heavy boy, he doesn't have the type of weight to do that kind of damage-"

"He was whipped," Austin inserted again. "Downstairs the chains a different- heavier. He was down there for hours with Nick."

The doctor put his hands above his head. "Was he suspended by his wrists? Like this?"

Austin nodded before taking the bottle back into his grasp and putting his head back down. "Yeah," he says softly, for a minute he closed his eyes, bad memories flooding into his mind again. "When you're down there your feet can't touch the floor. You're too high up. All of your weight, and the weight of the chains, are all put on your shoulders and your wrists."

Mark stood up, glancing sympathetically at Austin. Mark reached out, his hands tracing Sam's ribs then his legs.

"Hmm."

"What?" John asked, shifting on his feet.

Mark pointed to Sam, swallowing. "His midsection. The skin is tender, swollen in some parts."

"What does that mean? Something's broken?"

Mark nodded. "A rib. Maybe two... they should heal fine once I get them wrapped. As long as they're not puncturing anything, the swelling should go down significantly in a bout a week or so, he'll be all patched up in a month, maybe less."

Both John and Dean didn't say anything. They simply exchanged glances with each other.

For the next ten minutes, Mark reexamined Sam. This time more carefully. He did it in total silence this time, not a peep was heard from him.

"Well?" Dean asked when he was finally done.

The doctor shook his head. "Besides the wrist and maybe a few ribs, nothing's broken...We'll have to take care of the whip slashes on his back immediately. There's no telling why type of bacteria was on the whip or how many other people it was used on... uh, he's not showing signs of a concussion," he paused. "He's not showing signs of anything. Not until he wakes up, that is. Though they're dilated, his pupils are reactive, so that's a good sign. The things that worry me the most are the marks on his back and the needle marks that I found on both of his arms. I can't be sure of what exactly was in the substance he was given, so I'm not completely sure how to treat it. Not yet. But I will."

Dean nodded. "So what do we do?"

"I've gonna get some fluid into him. He needs water badly. I'll get some bandages, peroxide, my medical bag and a few pain medicines for your brother. I'll see what I can do. We'll try to make him as comfortable as possible."

"But you can't pinpoint why exactly he hasn't woken up yet?"

Mark scratched the side of his head. "The drugs are my best guess. But he's also suffering from malnutrition, dehydration, and exhaustion. There's no doubt that he's traumatized, that could be playing a huge part in it, too."

Dean really didn't like the urgency in the doctor's voice. It made Dean think that there was something he wasn't saying, maybe something was wrong. The doctor turned for the door, but just before he left he turned back and looked at Austin and said ,"I'll be right back to check you over. Just give me a few minutes" before he left the room.

Austin's response was simply a nod. He didn't really care. All he wanted to do was sleep.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Before the doctor came back into treat Sam fully, he told them it was probably best if they cleaned him up first. He was dirty. No so much his face, but the rest of him. The jeans he was wearing were the worst. Caked blood had settled onto the waist band of his jeans, giving the top of them a wet look. The button to them was missing, so they didn't close properly. Hell, they barely closed at all. The bottoms of the jeans were stained with dirt and whatever else was on the floor in that place. So Mark, Bobby and Austin left the room, giving the family of three some privacy.

John had left the room for a little over a minute and came back with two washcloths in his hand that he had gotten from the doctor; putting Sam in the shower wasn't a very plausible idea, especially if he wasn't even awake yet. John gave one of the cloths to Dean as he took a seat on the side of the bed Sam was in. Dean sat on the other side of his brother. He put the wet cloth on the side of Sam's face, trying to take off as much dirt as he could.

They did this silently, each of them wrapped in their own thoughts, their movements were almost robotic; and they stayed like that for some time. Dean blinked, coming out of the semi-trance he was in. He couldn't help but notice that Sam's hair had gotten longer, almost covering his eyes, in the back it was down to the center of his neck.

"He needs a haircut," John mumbles, reading Dean's mind.

Dean smirked. "He always needs a haircut. I always tell him it's too long, but he doesn't listen."

John smiled a little, thinking about all the fights he had with Sam over the years. "Sam doesn't really listen to anyone, does he? Especially me."

Shrugging, Dean says, "He's independent. That's a good thing, I guess."

There was no response even thought Dean was sure John had heard him. Dean didn't let himself think too much of it. He wasn't going to argue right now. In the back of his mind, he knew that John wasn't trying to pick a fight. Usually he wasn't. But the way he and Sam's personalities collided - well, lets just say it never really ended well.

Dean slid the washcloth down the side of Sam's face, picking up a trail of dirt with it. But then he stopped, his hands froze.

"What's wrong?" John asked, noticing the sudden change in Dean's mood.

Dean swallowed. "His neck," he says, his voice strained.

Looking up, John catches sight of what was bothering his son. There were dark red bite marks, scattered around his neck and chest area. It amazed Dean that he hadn't noticed it before now. He swallowed hard, his stomach churning.

Dean stood.

"His clothes. They're in the trunk. We forgot to bring 'em. I'll go," Dean says placing the washcloth he was using into his father's other hand and walking out the room, trying to erase all the thoughts from his mind.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Everything was beginning to settle down, just how John liked it. The doctor had put bandages around both Austin and Sam's wrists. Soon before that, Austin had taken a shower and then changed into spare sweat pants and a T-shirt from the bag of clothes Dean and John had brought for Sam. Mark had put some type of clear cream on the bruises on both of the boys and had given Austin some pills to take.

Now, Dean and Austin sat at the table. Dean was in the room with Sam for a little, but he kept seeing the bruises, the scars, all of it. After a while he couldn't take it. Just thinking about it made him sick. He wanted to bring all of the bastards back to life just so he could kill them over and over again. A little later, Dean exited the room, needing to clear his had two bottles of water in front of him and a bowl of fruit the doctor had gathered for him. He said that Austin should take in all the vitamins he could now, it'll only help. The doctor also said that Austin and Sam were suffering from malnutrition and the food they were given was most likely rotten or beginning to rot. Dean's stomach churned at the thought of it.

John was in the room with Sam, sitting by his bed. After getting cleaned up and in a clean pair of pants, Sam looked a little better already. Beside his hair, that they still hadn't gotten around to washing yet, he was beginning to look better. Mark had gotten a pack of clear liquid from a little refrigerator next to the one in the kitchen. When Dean asked what it was for, he was told that it was going to help Sam. He rambled off some medical terms, but what Dean figured he was getting at was that he was giving Sam an IV. Mark kept stressing that Sam needed liquids to drain the drugs from him and that he needed nutrients to bring his strength back up, the IV should help with both of those concerns.

"How long were you there?" Dean asked, curiosity taking over.

Austin swallowed another gulp of water. "Few years, maybe."

Dean's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Years?"

Austin was silent.

"Nobody's looking for you?"

"I sure they were for a while. The problem was nobody ever found me."

Dean nodded. "I'm sorry. You got family?"

Austin bit into the strawberry on his fork. "My mom and my little brother. But I'm pretty sure they've stopped looking… it's been too long."

In disagreement Dean shook his head. "It's never too late for family."

Austin smirked. "Y'know, Sam said the same thing to me when I told him."

Dean smiled, too. Somehow he wasn't too surprised to hear that.

A quiet fell over the table they were sitting at before Dean started up again.

"How old are you, Austin? Like, Sam's age?"

Shaking his head, Austin replied, "I'm twenty… maybe twenty one. I dunno. It's kinda hard to keep track of time anymore. I don't even know what day it is…"

"It's October 13th," Dean announces, hoping that it'll give the younger boy some type of grasp on the time. A few moments later Austin's mood changes and he sits up a little.

"_Oh_," he says lightly, coming to the realization of something.

"What?"

Austin picks at his food aimlessly. "My birthday's next week. It's the 20th."

Dean arched his eyebrows. "That's a weird coincidence."

Clasping his hands together, Dean cleared his throat. "Can I make you a promise?"

Austin looked up, a little surprised. "Sure?"

"I promise you, that my dad, Bobby, and I will find your family before your birthday next week. No exceptions. Nothing."

Dean looked at him straight in the eye, his voice steady and calm, letting him know that he was completely serious. Austin didn't respond but he nodded.

But most of all, he believed him.

* * *

So, what do you think?  
Please let me know.


	17. Chapter 17

_Author's Note_: Thank you to everyone who is still reading the story and enjoying it. Also, thank you for reviewing, giving feedback, and telling me how you feel about the story. It's really appreciated.

On the other hand, I cannot tell you how much research I've done for the rest of this story. I've read so many articles. Hell, I've even read rape victims survivor stories. I've read about mental stability. I've read about drugs, the aftermath of it, and the impact it had. I've read it all. My head his spinning. So hopefully this is to your liking and everything makes logical sense. Remember: I'm not a doctor. Some of what I say, may be wrong. If you have medical background or are familiar with the subject matter, please don't hesitate to contact me.

Anyway, on with the story; the Winchesters are waiting for you!

_Warning:_ I guess you would call it sensitive subject matter for the rest of the story. Stories to be told and whatnot.

* * *

**Chapter 17:**

The clock struck 4:30 am. The sky was a pale pink color, the sun just beginning to rise. They'd been at Mark's house for a few hours now. At first everything was fast pace, on edge. Now everything was quiet. Fearfully still and calm. Dean was still placed at the table in the dining room. He sat with his elbows on the table, his head pressed into his hands. His eyes were closed but he was no where near sleep. He couldn't sleep. Not even if he tried. Austin, though, had gone off to bed hours ago. The kid could barely walk when he went to head back to the bed that was designated for him. Dean had to help him, just in case he fell. Once he got Austin in bed, he tapped his shoulder, silently thanking him for looking out for Sam all he could. Dean understood that Austin didn't have to do that. He didn't have to say one word to Sam. But he did. And Dean was thankful for him either way.

"He's alright?" John asked from the other side of the room. He was still sitting next to Sam, watching him closely. Dean turning around, nodding as he did so.

"He's a good as you can expect, I guess. I mean, what he's been though… I just don't see how he's this calm- this okay."

John shrugged, standing up. His legs had gone numb about thirty minutes ago, but even then, he couldn't being himself to leave Sam, even if it was just standing up and walking around the room to get his circulation back.

"He's a strong kid," John observes. He looks over Dean's shoulder at Austin, who rolls himself over, facing the wall, the drifting back off to sleep. John smirked sympathetically before looking back over at Sam again.

Dean took a seat at the edge of Sam's bed, near his head. He places his hand over Sam's feeling his warmth. Dean looks back over at his father. "Anything yet?"

John shook his head. "No, but Mark said anytime now…"

Dean felt himself deflate, his chest caving in a little as he sighed, looking down at his hand that covered his brothers' he blinks hard.

"I just want him to wake up," Dean mumbles.

John continues to walk around the room, feeling the tingling sensation in his legs as the blood flows.

"Can I tell you something'?" John asks.

Dean nods. "Yeah, sure."

Clearing his throat, John smiles a little. "I'm scared," he admits. "Scared of what he's gonna be like when he wakes up. Scared of what he's gonna say ; scared of what he'll remember…"

Bowing his head, Dean nods. His fears were exactly the same. He thought about that since the minute Sam was taken. Dean, John, and Bobby knew what happened to Sam and Austin. But they only knew to a certain extent. Austin would only say what he wanted, but they all knew there was more to the story, more things he want saying. Things he was too embarrassed to admit to. It scared both of the older Winchesters to even think of what happened to Sam, but to hear it in detail? It would surely rip their heart out.

"As bad as it sounds, I'm actually savoring the fact that he's calm right now. There's no telling what he's gonna be like later," John adds, sitting down again.

It took Dean a second to answer, thinking about his father's words. "Yeah I know what you mean," he finally replies.

Noticing the dark circles forming under John's eyes, Dean asks, "Did you sleep at all?"

John shakes his head. "I can't. I won't be able to relax, so I didn't even try."

Dean smiles. "Yeah, me either. But, hey, you've been sitting with him for hours. Why don't you take a break, I'll stay."

John stands, arching his eyebrows. "You sure?"

"Of course."

Heading to the door, John brushes past Dean as he takes his seat next to Sam's bed.

"Call me if anything happens," John states.

Dean looks back.

"I'll call you even if his hair moves," Dean teases.

John smiles, taking hold of the doorknob tightly.

"You better," he responds, closing the door, leaving them alone.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Dean sat. His eyes were getting heavy. He never thought he'd be with tired, especially with Sam still unconscious, but somehow he'd found himself drifting off to sleep. No, he told himself; the doctor said that Sam should wake up any time now. He thought it would be soon since he was getting the right care. Sam waking up would be a relief and a brand new worry all together. Thinking only made Dean more tired. His eyes shut for a second then peeled back open. Dean, don't go to sleep, he said to himself. But he couldn't fight it anymore. Maybe, he thought, I'll just rest my eyes for a second...

Something pulled Dean back into reality. Something was wrong. When Dean came back into full awareness, he saw Sam beginning to wake. His feet was kicking, and his arm was yanking at something nonexistent. His eyes were still closed, but they were squeezed shut tight, little wrinkles forming at the sides of his eyes, making crow's feet. Dean sat forward, taking a closer look, then he mentally slapped himself and sprung into action. Dean stood, pressing his hands to Sam's chest, trying to keep him still.

"Sammy," he calls. "Sam, open your eyes."

That's when things took a turn.

His call, his voice, his touch, his grip, something set Sam off. He started yelling. He started kicking, squirming in Dean's hold. Sam was mumbling something Dean couldn't quite understand until he made himself listen closer.

"Stop... please, stop," Sam mumbled, trying to get loose of Dean's grip. Sam pushes Dean hard - harder than Dean would've thought considering the condition he was in. Dean shook him a little

"I'm not gonna hurt you, stop fighting me Sam," Dean talks as gently and as calmly as he could. Seeing no other choice, Dean takes a seat on the edge of the bed and pulls Sam into his arms. He held Sam firmly, but not too tight; just enough to overpower him so Sam couldn't fight him anymore, leaving him no choice but to listen to the words coming out of Dean's mouth.

"Sam! Sammy? It's me, Dean. I've got you. You're alright," Dean says to him, his voice going a little louder than he wanted. It was hard to keep himself calm when he was actually far from it.

"No!" Sam yells, pulling back and out of Dean's grip. But when Sam's eyes finally meet Dean's he freezes. Dean looks at Sam intently, hoping to find some recognition and familiarity in Sam's eyes. Sadly, Sam eyes were blank, nothing. He stared wide-eyed at Dean, not saying anything.

Dean put his hand on his chest. "It's me, Sammy. You're safe..."

Sam swallows, breathing heavily.

"Dea'?," his voice is light, winded, broken, and didn't even sound like his own. Dean was shocked at how different it sounded.

Dean stood still as Sam's hand reached up and touched the side of his face, like he didn't even believe Dean was real, like he didn't believe this was happening. Dean nodded, his eyes clouding.

"It's really me, Sammy."

Sam sat there for a second, then it was like a light bulb clicked on in his head.

"Dean? Oh, thank God," he cries, reaching out a pulling Dean into a hug, holding on for dear life. Dean's eyes bulged, feeling Sam shaking in his arms.

Dean felt his heart quicken as Sam's grip tightened. Behind them, Dean heard the door swing open and feet rushing in. He was sure it was his father, Bobby, and the doctor, all alarmed by the sudden noise coming from the room. Dean put his hand out quickly, trying to tell them everything was alright. Sam's head was on this shoulder, his face toward his neck. Dean could feel his brother's heartbeat pumping rapidly and his breaths coming in shallow gasps. Wrapping his arms around him,Dean pulled Sam closer. He brushed the back of his head, his fingers carding through Sam's hair, trying to calm him. Dean made soft shushing sounds and was rewarded when he could no longer feel Sam's heart beating on his chest. He started to rock gently back and forth.

John approached slowly, his eyes were sad but he was smiling.

"Sammy," he says reaching out for him.

Knowing how much his touch freaking Sam out before, Dean shook his head, stopping his father from reaching out. There was a look upon his face that was confused, but he trusted Dean so he kept his distance for now.

Pulling back a little, Dean tried to pull out of Sam's grip.

He didn't want to say 'Sam let go,' that would sound like he was rejecting him or something, but they couldn't stay like this forever. But the longer Sam held onto him, the more worried Dean got. The more it hit him that Sam had literally been to hell and back and this was the aftermath of it. The longer Sam held on, it made Dean wish he'd killed all of those bastards slowly. He wished he had got to see the life leave their body and the light go out in their eyes. Each minute that went by, Dean began to wonder just how messed up his brother had become.

Finally, Sam let go. He sat back, his eyes fixed on the floor. He couldn't bring himself to look Dean in the eye.

"Sam?" John called again.

Biting his lip, Sam looked at him.

"Dad?"

John nodded, moving closer and hugging him.

Sam shook his head, tears flowing. "You came for me..."

That's when John felt bad. Like a bad father. Like a bad person. Just... bad.

"Of course I came, Sam. Why wouldn't I?"

Sam was silent, pulling back from his father's hug. Sam thought about all the times Dean had called John if Sam was sick, and he didn't come. All the times Dean or Sam needed help, and when they called for their father, he was no where to be found. But Sam put all that in the back of his mind. He didn't want to argue. Arguing was the last thing on his mind.

He pushed himself back, away from everyone. He sat with his back against the pillows that aligned the headboard. He pulled his legs up to his chest protectively, wrapping his arms around them. Dean and John exchanged glances. Dean had to look twice. Sam was pale, his eyes tired, filled with exhaustion , relief, confusion and everything in between. He was rocking back and forth almost self-consciously, like a bad habit. He looked down at his wrists, seeing the soft cast around one, and bandaging around the other.

Mark stepped forward, a stethoscope around his neck. He puts the ends into his ears, taking hold of the end.

"Sam," he says softly. "I need to listen to your heartbeat for a minute, okay?"

Sam's eyes wen big, he pushed himself back from the doctor's reaching hand.

"Don't touch me," Sam warned, his voice cold and stern.

Mark didn't let up. He moved closer by a few steps.

"Sam, it'll only take a minute," he tried to persuade.

Mark reached out, taking hold of Sam's shoulder. Immediately, Sam jumped pushing the doctor back, more scared than anything.

"I said don't touch me! Don't _ever_ touch me!" His eyes were alive, anger burning but to only hide the fear. He pushed himself further away on the big bed, closer to the edge of the other side. Closer to the side of the bed that was closest to Austin. He was awake, too. He was quiet, Sam hadn't even acknowledged him. Austin sat on the bed designated for him, letting the family handle their problems alone and was respectfully quiet as he watched.

Dean stood, pushing the doctor back a few steps. "Here, let me do it," he says.

Mark shakes his head. "You're not a doctor, you don't know what you're looking for-"

"Yeah, but I know when something sounds wrong. Gimme 'em. He'll let me do it."

"You sure?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah," he answers, looking back at Sam, then to his father, then to Bobby, then back at the doctor.

Reluctantly, Mark handed over his tool, placing it on Dean's open hand. John touches Dean's shoulder.

"Be careful, son," he says gesturing to Sam who had separated himself from the rest of the group. Dean sighed, frowning as he approached his brother.

"Sammy," he calls, walking slowly. Sam looks up a little, sees Dean walking closer, and pushes himself back a little. Dean held his hand out.

Sam swallows hard, his breathing coming a little easier now but still at a rapid pace. Dean eases a little closer. "You see him, Sam?" Dean asks. "He's a doctor. His name's Mark and he wants me to listen to your heart, alright?" Dean hated this. He hated talking to Sam like this. Like he couldn't understand it any other way. He knew that Sam - the old Sam, at least - hated it, too.

Sam didn't answer.

Dean put the ends in his ear, taking hold of the end. He brought the end of it within inches of Sam's chest then stopped.

"It'll probably be cold," he warned, not wanting another freak out. Sam nodded softly.

Seconds later, Dean pressed the end right over Sam's heart and listened. His heart was beating fast, like he'd just got done running. He heard the doctor clear his throat.

"Well?" he asked.

Dean shrugs.

"It's fast. Really fast. But- I dunno... it sounds fine."

"Do you hear a shushing sound? Is the beat irregular?"

It took Dean a second, then he shrugged again. "No... no, I don't think so. It sounds okay."

Marked waved his hand, gesturing for Dean to come back and for John, Dean, and Bobby to follow him outside of the room.

"We'll be right back, Sam," John says, giving his son a remorseful look. He hated to leave him again, and he hoped that whatever they doctor had to say was quick. Bobby closed the door, turning to the doctor.

"They both have to be tested," Mark says, urgency in his voice.

"Tested?"

He nods. "STD... diseases... everything. And they both need it now. There's no telling what could've been passed on to them. The food was damn near rotten, they were assaulted both physically and sexually. You see how both of their wrists were torn and battered from the chains? There's no way to guarantee that they were the only one's that used that chain. Especially Sam, he was whipped, exposed to the bacteria on the whip. What if it'd been used before? He could catch something. HIV," the doctor pointed out, that sure as hell caught everyone's attention. They all exchanged looks.

"What would you have to do?" John asked, shifting uneasily on his feet.

"Blood work, cotton swabs, he needs to get multiple shots, I need to check him again, the whole nine yards..."

Dean and John exchange glances.

... _Sam's not gonna like this at all _, they both thought.


	18. Chapter 18

_Authors Note: _Really sorry for the wait, I've been busy. With school, homework, needing sleep, & trying to keep up with my grades, I didn't have time to sit down and write a chapter. But, I wanted to thank all of you for still sticking with the story. Also, thank you for taking the time to review. I'm sorry, but the chapter's a little shorter than usual because I have the biggest brain block you could imagine.

_Warning: _Sensitive subject matter for the rest of the story.

* * *

**Chapter 18:**

Austin stood, pushing himself to the edge of the bed. He watched Sam as he sat toward the top of the bed with his hand wrapped around his knees. He didn't look sad or frightened. His face was blank- damn near close to emotionless. Intently, he stared down at the bed sheet. His fingers were tapping quickly and he was rocking slowly, and it such a smooth rhythm that it seemed as if Sam didn't realize he was moving at all. He was biting his bottom lip softly, breathing slowly. Austin was surprised Sam hadn't taken notice of his presence in the room. But it seemed li ke Sam was in his own world- trapped in his thoughts.

Austin cleared his throat, but Sam didn't even look in his direction.

"Sam?"

Like a hawk, Sam's head swooped in Austin's direction, frightened by the sudden call. His breathing sped up a little from the comfortable pace it was at before. His eyes bulged- whether it was from being surprised or from disbelief, Austin would never know. Sam blinked twice at him. He had that feeling. That feeling when you know that you know something, but you just can't put your finger on it. Austin could see the slight recognition in Sam's eyes and waited patiently for him to remember who he was. That's when it hit him.

"Austin?"

Nodding, the blond headed boy took a step closer and was sort of shocked when Sam didn't move away. Instead, he tugged on Austin's arm, pulling him to take a seat on the bed. Sam shook his head, like the didn't believe it.

"How'd you get here?" Sam asked.

Austin smirked a little. "Same way you did," he answers. "your family."

"Well... are you alright?"

"I've been there for years, Sam, and I'm pretty sure you've had it worse that I did. I should be asking for you're okay, not the other way around."

Sam didn't respond.

"... so are you?" Austin asked after a couple seconds of silence.

"Am I what?"

"Are you okay?"

Sam shook his head. He didn't know. Honestly, he didn't know how he felt. He was in pain, at rest, terrified, scared, safe, relaxed, panicked, worried, at ease as so much more all at the same time. He was surprised he was speaking clearly or anything. He hoped that he didn't sound as messed up as he felt. Sam's mind was so jumbled, but he didn't want to scare anyone, especially Dean, so he kept that to himself.

"I... I'm fine," Sam lied. If Austin was the type of person that he seemed to be, he'd be one of the first ones to go and tell Dean that something was a little off with Sam. So instead of going through that, Sam figured it was best to keep quiet.

Austin looked at his skeptically. He didn't believe him. There's no way Sam could be 'fine'. Not after what he went through. There's just no way. Austin wasn't fine himself, either. He was a little better at hiding it than Sam, but he knew there was a long road to recovery ahead of him.

Looking closer, Austin noticed a thin sheet of sweat on Sam, making his face glow. He looked tired- exhausted.

"You sure you're okay?" Austin asked. He reached up, trying to put his hand to Sam's forehead. Before he even got halfway, Sam moved out of the way, pushing himself back. Austin held his hand up, smiling a little at Sam.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he says. "I just wanna check something."

Sam was steady when Austin's hand rested on his forehead, but the look he was giving Austin was far from a trusting one. The heat that Austin felt on his hand was quite shocking, but the last thing he wanted to so was scare some even more, so he put his hand down.

Just as his hand fell from Sam's head, the door swung open. Almost instantly, Austin stood up. Mark came in carrying a medical bag and Austin couldn't help but wonder what was in it. Following close behind was Dean and John. They walked side by side like a two-man army. Both of their faces were stone. The face you make when you're feeling too many emotions so you decide not to show any at all. Just like what Sam's doing. Apparently, it runs in the family.

"Hey, Sam," Dean says, walking toward the bed. "You alright?"

Slightly, Sam just nods.

Austin gently taps Dean's shoulder, getting his attention.

"Yeah, what is it, Austin?"

Looking over at Sam for a second, he says, "Sam's got a fever. I'm not sure how high, but I just wanted to let you know."

Dean nods, smiling at him a little. "Thanks for the heads up, man," was his only response.

Mark sets his bag down and approaches Austin.

"Hey, I have to do some tests on Sam. Would you mind giving us a little while?"

"Oh," Austin says, already making his way to the door. "Yeah no problem."

Mark stood at the doorway. "I'll run the same tests on you, when I'm finished, okay? I just want to make sure everything's alright with you."

Mark closed the door and faced Sam. Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed. When they made eye contact, Dean gave the doctor a little nod.

"Okay," Mark says, reaching for gloves in his bag. "Let's begin."

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Sam was crying. Not that obnoxious crying with the weird sounds and the heavy breathing, but he was crying. Crying with his head buried in Dean's chest. With Dean's arm around him, Dean was silent. He didn't try to get him to stop, there was no reason to. All of this emotion, anger, and pain he had to keep inside him had finally began to come out. Dean could feel Sam's shaky breaths coming in short gasps as he tried to get himself under control but failed at it miserably. In the back of his mind, Dean knew that the examination was a bad idea, but he also knew it had to be done. Sam had tried to fight off the doctor, especially when he had to take a blood sample. But the longer the exam went on, the more Sam lost it. Then it got to the point where it was close to hysterics. He was kicking, yelling, telling Mark to get away.

"Stop touching me, stop touching me!" he kept yelling.

It took both John and Dean to get him to stop.

Luckily, Mark had said he had gotten all he needed to run tests. Soon after he had left the room.

Dean petted Sam's hair, just trying to comfort him as much as he could.

"It's over, Sammy. It's all over. You did great," Dean whispers.

Dean can feel Sam's tear drops falling on to him, sliding down his arm, then moments later they are blown away by Sam's breath.

Looking up at his Dad, Dean can see the hurt in his eyes. He looks like he could cry himself.

But Dean couldn't. Not here. Not now. Someone had to be strong. By default, Dean guessed it had to be him.

Looking down, Dean says, "Why don't you try to go to sleep, Sam. It might help. It'll calm you down."

Sam shook his head, the top of his hair tickling Dean's chin.

"Why not?"

There was silence. The weight on Dean's chest was lifted with Sam brought his head up. His eyes were deep red from crying, his face was wet from tears, glowing with fever. If he was standing, he looked like he would drop any second.

"I'm afraid," he admits, his voice broken and soft.

Dean's eyebrows scrunched. "Of what?"

Sam looked around, like someone was watching.

"... of what I might see."

Dean nodded.

"Yeah, well, nothing's gonna hurt you. I'm right here. I promise."

Sam shrugged. "You're not with me in a nightmare, Dean."

Leaning back on an angle, Dean rested his head. He put his feet up on the bed, getting comfortable.

"I'm not leaving you," Dean says. "And if you have a nightmare, I'll be right here to pull you out, okay?"

Sam was skeptical. But slowly, he let his head rest on the pillow.

Dean smiled a little.

"Close your eyes, it's okay. You're safe, Sam."

Slowly, Sam let himself relax. And for that night, Dean's heart beat was his lullaby.

* * *

This chapter was hard to write. Not because there was tons and tons of emotion and whatnot. But because of my writer's block. So please don't slaughter me if it's not that good. I'm working out of a rut. But please let me know what you think!


	19. Chapter 19

_Author's Note: _Thank you all for all the support you've been giving me. You really helped me stay positive. I'm still in kind of a rut, but this chapter came a little easier. So I hope you like it. I'd love to know what you thought of the chapter and this story as this is one of the final chapters. Thank you all.

_Warning: _See any previous chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 19:**

John entered the room designated for Sam; what he saw instantly made him smile. Both of his sons were sleeping. Sam's head was right in the center of Dean's chest. It was the most peaceful he'd seen Sam in a while. As he looked closer, it seemed that both of their breathing were synchronized, keeping a connection with each other even in their sleep. Sam's arm was slung across Dean's stomach, his hands balled into fists, Dean's wrapped around Sam's shoulders. John leaned against the door fame. He'd always been impressed with the relationship his sons had, he'd also envied it. Never in his life had he had such a connection with someone that they seemed to have. He knew it must've killed them to be apart for so long. He wasn't sure how long they'd been like that, but he was glad that they were finally getting so rest. He knew that Sam was exhausted- that was obvious. With all that he's been through, and the stress of handling it all, John wasn't sure how much he could handle. But Dean was close to his limit, too. He'd never say it out loud, but John could see it. Dean had barely slept since Sam was gone. He felt guilty that Sam had been taken. He felt like it was his fault. But no matter how many times John said it, Dean was convinced it was his fault. Since then, he hadn't gotten a fell night's rest. Hell, it was a miracle if he'd get a couple of hours. But right here, right now, John could see the tiredness on both of his son's faces. But he could also see the peace they displayed, too. John knew that Dean wasn't going to be the same unless they got Sam back; and now that he's here, John can see and feel all the relief Dean has. John hoped that maybe eve thing would start to go back to normal… or at least begin to get there. More than anything, John just wanted his sons back. John wanted to make things right with both of them.

John walked slowly, toward the chair that was next to the bed. He walked softly, trying not to make any sudden noises. He wanted them to sleep. They needed it, but he couldn't pass up on this opportunity. He just wanted to soak up the quiet, cherish the moment. But in his attempt to be quiet, John accidentally kicked the leg of the chair, causing it so skid across the floor, making an awkward sound. From the corner of his eye, he saw Dean jump, lifting his head a little.

"Sam, you alright?" were the first words out of Dean's mouth. His voice was scratchy and tired, his eyes barely open. Dean looked down to his brother still sleeping on him, he sighed. John held his hand up, half crouching, half standing.

"It's alright, Dean. I just hit my foot. Go back to sleep."

Dean sat up a little more, but did his best to keep Sam in place at the same time. He grinned a little when Sam didn't even stir. He wanted him to sleep, wanted him to get the most rest he could. He just wanted him to forget about the world as much as possible. Right now, Dean just wanted Sam to forget. Forget about where he was kept. Forget about what happened what happened to him. Forget about everything.

Looking down at his brother, Dean stroked his arm, listening to his breathing. It came in deep pulls, filling his lungs completely and was let out slowly, blowing a breeze over Dean's midsection. Each time he looked at Sam, he couldn't help but feel the guilt hit him. All the scars on Sam's body, all the torture he went through, how traumatized he is, everything ; Dean felt the guilt for all of that. If only he'd been paying more attention on the day that Sam was taken, if only he'd been strong and able to fight off the men, if only Dean had done his job of protecting Sam better.

Since Sam's been home, and even when he was gone, Dean couldn't even count how many times he's said , "I'm sorry, Sam," hoping that it'll somehow take some of the guilt he was feeling away. But there was no way. No 'sorry' was going to fix anything. Saying 'sorry' wasn't going to make Sam feel any better, even if he'd say that all of this wasn't Dean's fault.

John sat down, seeing no reason to try and be sneaky anymore.

"You should go back to sleep," the older Winchester says, seeing the sleepiness in Dean's eyes.

Expectantly, Dean shakes his head.

Both of their eyes fall onto Sam who's still in a deep sleep, relaxed completely.

"He feels like an oven," Dean mumbles to his father. The heat coming off of Sam had peaked his attention and concern hours ago, but he couldn't help but fall asleep. He'd been near zombie-like since Sam was taken, so once he was back and was finally safe, Dean couldn't help but fall asleep again. But now that he was awake, Dean could feel the over warmth from Sam's head through his shirt. It was getting higher.

John stood, concerned.

"Fever?" he questioned. "It's getting higher?"

Dean didn't answer. "He needs medicine or something."

"Can't," John answers as he wagged his finger a little at his side. "Doc says that with the drugs Sam was given, he doesn't really want to give him anything else beside the nutrients he needs to get his strength back. He's given him a little pain medication, but that was even taking a risk. He really shouldn't have anything in his system right now."

Dean squinted. "So what're we gonna do? We can't just leave him like this."

John was silent. Then he walked to the medical bag that was left on the night stand between the two beds. John rummaged through it, the snickered in victory when he found what he was looking for. He held the ice back up. "I'll go put this in the freezer. He can have it in about an hour. It should help with his temperature."

"But what about _now _," Dean contradicted. He gestured down to Sam. "Look at him, Dad. He's shaking."

John glanced down at his sons. "Alright," he answers. "I'll get the doctor."

Dean sat up a little more, pulling Sam onto his shoulder rather then the center of his chest. He knew that it'd be easier for the doctor to take a look at him when he's like that rather than lying fat down. Within seconds, Mark and John had returned. Bobby had came, too, but made himself a place in the doorway. Austin was somewhere unknown to Dean. Maybe in the kitchen eating, in the living room, or perhaps taking a shower.

Mark approached the brothers in the bed. "What's happened?" he asked, getting the stethoscope. Dean found it a little weird that in the movies the doctor always went for the stethoscope, and that's just what Mark had been doing since they'd got here. He pressed the ends into his ears. He could do it himself this time, he took advantage of the fact that Sam was sleep.

"Can you roll him over a little, please?"

Dean shrugged. "Not unless you want him to wake up. If he wakes up, he's gonna start fighting you, then you won't be able to do anything to him."

Mark brushed off Dean's comment and took his chances. There was more than enough man-power to restrain Sam if he got too out of hand. Mark's number one priority was to make sure Austin and Sam got back to as close to 100% as he could. Reaching out, Mark pushed Sam's shoulder, taking the side of him off of Dean, lying him flat on his back. Sam groaned, feeling foreign hands tug on him. He wasn't fully awake yet, but he knew that he didn't want it. He moaned something that none of them could understand. Mark leaned forward, pressing the cool metal to Sam's chest. He listened to a moment, and only a moment. He listened to Sam's breathing, hearing it as it increased each second Sam came closer to waking up.

Pushing away Sam's damp hair, Mark pressed his hand against Sam's forehead, then the side of his face.

"I need my thermometer," Mark says more to himself than to anyone else. He digs into the front part of the bag, bringing it out. Walking away, Mark disappeared for a moment, sterilizing it quickly.

"Sit him up," Mark instructs to Dean, gesturing with his hand.

Dean sat forward pushing Sam into the sitting position.

"Sammy," he called, shaking him gently. "Sam, wake up."

Slowly, Sam's eyes fluttered open. They looked tired, glossed, fevered. He didn't speak. He didn't fight. He didn't yell; he didn't have the energy to. Sam just looked around, blinking in slow motion, trying to get a grip on what's happening. He could see that everyone was around him. He could tell that something was wrong. But he didn't know exactly what. Sliding his tired eyes, Sam looked over at the doctor who held what looked like a white, pen sized thing in his hand. Sam's vision was blurry. He squinted when he realized that it was coming toward him. Sam felt someone's hands on his chin, pulling his mouth open. Sam's heart picked up speed. In the back of his mind, he knew he was safe, he knew Dean was there, but he didn't like what was happened. _Why don't they stop touching me? _Sam though, trying to pull back.

"It's to take your temperature, Sammy. Relax. It's okay," Dean said to him. He rubbed Sam's shoulder, trying to comfort him as much as he could.

Sam's eyes looked over at Dean. They were worried and unsure, but Dean nodded at him, trying to tell him that everything's okay.

Before he knew it, the thermometer was removed out of his mouth. Mark studied it.

"Hm," was all he said.

Dean and John raised an eyebrow.

"Hm?" Dean repeated. "Well, what is it?"

Mark cleared his throat. "103.4."

Sam's head dropped, resting on Dean's shoulder, his face turned inward toward his chin.

"De'n, wha's wrong with me?" Sam mumbled, his voice strained and weak.

Dean couldn't help but remember when Sam was a kid. He sounded just like when he was younger. Right now, he resembled more of an eight year old more than an eighteen year old. Dean hugged Sam.

"You're sick, Sammy. You've got a fever. You're burning up," Dean informs to Sam who seems to be clueless.

"Really?" Sam asks, his voice a little surprised. "Cuz I'm freezing."

Mark took a step back. "I'm gonna go get a wash cloth and some ice water. We've got to get his temperature down. John, go down the hall and into the first door on the right. It's a closet. There's a thinner blanket in there that we can use for him. We wanna keep him warm. Hot too hot not too cold."

Sam tugs at the collar at Dean's collar, going from hot flashes to cold. He's shivering with drops of sweat rolling down him. He felt horrible.

"Dean, I'm tired," Sam whispers, his eyes already closing. Dean shook him, denying his attempt.

"Not yet, Sam. You've gotta drink something first."

Proving Dean right, Mark came back with a large bowl with ice water, a washcloth floating at the top of it and a bottle of water in his hand. He gave it to Dean who pressed the bottle in Sam's hand.

"Drink some, alright ? Then you can go to sleep."

Sam took two big gulps, hoping that it would satisfy his brother before handing the bottle back.

Dean stood up, leaving Sam in the middle of the bed. He took the heavy comforter and waited for John to come back with the thinner blanket. Mark dunked the cloth in the water, swam it around for a few moments, rang it out, and folded it. Mark dabbed it across Sam's face, then left it on his forehead, letting it soak in. John reentered the room. Together, he and Dean drape the blanket over Sam, trying to get him comfortable.

"Alright, one of you have got to stay in here with him. Leave this cloth on for twenty minutes, then take it off for twenty. Then dip it back in the water and put it back on him for twenty minutes and repeat the pattern. Hopefully you'll start to see his temperature go down. Also, every hour, wake him up, try to have him drink some of the water. With all the sweating from the fever, he's most likely to become dehydrated. So try to keep track of that."

John nods at Dean.

"Go rest, son. I'll watch Sam, alright?"

Dean looks at him, not saying anything.

John pushed his arm a little. "Really, Dean. Believe me, I love that all you wanna take care of your brother. I love that you'll do anything for him, lose sleep for him, anything, really; but you can't run on empty all the time. How do you expect to take care of Sam if you're dead tired?"

Dean knew he was right.

"What about you?" Dean asked. "You can't stay with him all the time, either."

John smirked. "Bobby and Mark would be glad to help. We'll take turns."

Dean shrugged.

"Fine," he answers. Dean walks over to Sam again, leaning closer. "I'll be back in a couple hours," he says to Sam who's already asleep. "Hang in there, buddy." Dean ruffles Sam's hair, then walks out the room.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Dean closed the door to Sam's room and walked into the living room where Bobby sat. Mark was in the kitchen, Dean could hear the pots clattering against each other. Austin was on the love seat asleep.

"How's he doing, Dean?"

Dean shrugged. "He's got a fever. It's pretty high. Dad's trying to get it down."

Bobby nodded. He notices the worried look on his face and says, "He's a strong kid, Dean. He'll pull through. He's too stubborn not to."

Dean smiled a little. "I know," he answered, looking down at the floor. "But it's just not fair."

"What's not fair?"

Dean sighed. "It's like everything happens to Sam. It's like... the kid can't catch a break. And that's just what he is. He's a kid, Bobby. He only turn eighteen a couple months ago. He graduates in four. How come he can't just live?"

Bobby didn't have an answer.

"I don't know, son. I just don't know."

Dean kept his stare on the floor.

"You've just gotta have faith, Dean."

Dean looked up, stared Bobby straight in the eye. "Faith is what you have when you've got nothing left," he answers coldly.

Without saying another word, he walks into the room on the other side of the room that's designated for John and Dean.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Bobby tapped the computer screen.

"That's it," he says.

He smiles a little.

"I've got it."

Bobby stands, walking into the room where Sam and John was. He poked his head in.

"John," he calls.

John looks up. He's standing over Sam, sliding the cold cloth across his face, trying to keep him comfortable.

"Yeah?"

"I've got some good news," Bobby announces.

"Good news? I could use some good news right now."

Bobby nodded.

"Well, it's good for Austin... I've found his parents."

John's eyes lit up.

"That's great, Bobby."

Bobby nodded.

"Yeah, they'll be here in two days."

"Does Austin know?"

Bobby shook his head.

"No, I want him to be surprised."


	20. Chapter 20

_Author's Note: _Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter. It's really appreciated, especially since this story is coming to a close. But don't worry! I have a couple of ideas up my sleeve for new stories and whatnot, so you'll still hear from me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. This chapter's kind of short, I'm sorry.

Oh yeah, check out my new story. It's called 'Time Is My Enemy'. I just started it. It's not a long story. Probably only going to be about three chapters. But it's my take on the 'Croatoan' virus with a couple of twists and turns. So hopefully you'll like it!

Anyway, on to the new chapter.

_Warning: _See any previous chapter.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty:**

Dean couldn't make himself go to sleep, no matter how hard he tried. He knew that that would happen, too. He just couldn't. He was afraid that the moment he let his guard down, the moment he let himself relax, that his father would come bursting through the door yelling that something was wrong with Sam. He'd had that dream many of times when they were younger and Sam happened to be sick. He never wanted to sleep, because if he's sleep, there's no one to look after Sam. Sure, sometimes their dad was there and maybe if they were at Bobby's, but Dean never really trusted anyone like he trusted himself. He just wanted to be there for Sam; that's it.

Rolling onto his back, Dean picked a spot on the ceiling and stared at it for a while. So long, it started to move. Dean blinked, and the spot was back in it's rightful spot again.

Sighing, Dean allowed his eyes to close. The television was off. Dean didn't have much interest in television nowadays. Dealing with all of this was a drama all it's own. The silence in the room was bothering him, though. It allowed his mind to think louder, tell him all the of the things he didn't want to hear. The voice in his head was his father's telling him that he did wrong, that he didn't know how to take care of Sam, telling him that Sam was taken when they were together so it's his fault. Angry, Dean slammed his open hand on the bed. He knew that. He knew it was his fault. He knew that Sam would be fine right now if Dean was able to protect Sam like he promised...

"I'm sorry," Dean whispers to no one but himself. Honestly, he didn't even realize he'd said it aloud.

Resting was never really something that came easy to Dean unless he was dead tired... or drunk. Letting his guard down was something that he wasn't familiar with unless he was asleep. He was never fond of sleep. You just lay here, unmoving, unconscious, unaware. When you're sleep, you're stuck in a place that you can only get to in your dreams. It isn't real. What you dream about is never going to happen. So what's the point of dreaming it?, Dean always thought. So he'd rather live in reality. Where the pain you feel is real, the things you see are real, and you can be realistic about what you wan to accomplish.

Dean's eyes slid closed a little, but he shook himself.

He knew that his dad promised to get him as soon as something changed with Sam, but he just couldn't go to sleep with all this worry. Not now. Dean felt it in his stomach. Something was wrong...

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

John hovered over Sam, pressing the cool, damp cloth to his forehead. He watched his son take in short, quick breaths. Sam was in a fevered sleep. The core of his body too over-heated to stay conscious. Sam's head lulled from side to side, trying to get away from John's helping hand. John sighed, letting go of the cloth on Sam's head and taking a seat on the bed. John puts his hand on top of Sam's that lay across his stomach. This action caught John by surprise. He sort of did it impulsively. When Sam just just a baby, he used to do the same thing. He used to put his hand right on top of Sam's stomach, feeling the rhythm as it rises and falls. John did this with Dean, too. Often you hear about parents coming in to check on their kids at night, making sure they're still breathing... well, this was John's way of doing that same thing.

Looking up, John took notice of the distressed look on Sam's face. John curled his fingers around Sam's hand, feeing the sweatiness of his palm. He remembered how smoothly his hand used to elevate and drop on his youngest son's stomach, but this was far from smooth. His breathing was quick, hitching when he'd breathe in and a raspy, thin exhale that made John worry.

Putting his head down, John did something he hadn't done in a while: he prayed. He prayed for all of this to just go away. He prayed for Sam to get better. He prayed for Dean to stop blaming himself. He prayed for his son's to forgive him for not being the best father possible. He prayed for everything.

Then John's mind wandered to Mary. Oh, how disappointed she'd be in him. He knew that this was probably close to her worst nightmare.

Pressing his freehand into his face, John groaned in frustration.

When did everything get this out of hand? When had John completely stopped being a father and let Dean handle things? When had he put his job first and his kids second? When did he stop caring?

Hot tears brimmed at John's eyes. Frustrated, he pushed them away, but they only returned. He closed his eyes, trying to escape his thoughts. But closing them only gave him a picture of Mary. Her face was sad- disappointed. But then he opened his eyes again, she was gone. John brought his hand to the side of his head. He was hallucinating. He was letting his mind get the better of him.

Under his hand, he felt Sam move. He kicked at the covers shielding his body. John stood, pressed his hands to Sam's shoulders and called to him.

"Just calm down, Sammy," he says softly to him. "Go back to sleep, son."

It took a minuet, but Sam stopped. He opened his eyes slightly, and stared dully at the opposite side of the room. Then he brought his tired gaze up to John who smiled warmly at him. John petted the back of his head, happy to see him awake and calm at the same time. John was surprised he was fighting, calling for Dean.

Sam squinted at him. "Daddy?"

John froze.

_What did he just call me?_ , John questioned. Sam? His son, calling him 'Daddy' out of all things? He hadn't heard Sam call him that since he was four.. maybe five if he was trying to get his way. But at eighteen? That was one way to see that Sam was feeling like hell. John swallowed hard. He was scared.

One word. Just one word that put things in a whole new prospective for John. That one word to leave John stunned, his mouth stuck in an 'O' shape as he tried to think of something to answer with. One word that showed how much they've been through, not just now, but all their lives. Covering his mouth to keep the tears at bay, John nodded, trying to smile.

"Yeah, Sammy. It's okay. I'm here, Dean's here, too."

But it was like Sam hadn't heard what he said.

Sam relaxed again, but still kept his eyes on John. He blinked a few times.

"I've missed you," Sam whispers just before his eyes close again and his back to sleep.

John felt his lip quiver a little. Again, something he'd never really heard from Sam since he was a little kid. Letting his eyes fall closed, a tear slid out from under them, slid down John's cheek and fell to the ground. And before that tear hit the ground John promised to be a better father. John nodded to himself. That would make Mary proud.

Bending down, John wrapped one hand around Sam and buried his face in his sons hair.

"I've missed you, too, Sammy," he finally replied.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-_

Mark balanced Sam and Austin's test results in his hand. He held the blood work up the the light before taking a syringe and taking out two samples from both of them.

He put them down on the see-through glass and studied them under the microscope.

Seconds in, Mark sits back.

"Damn it," he exclaims to himself. He sat back.

"This is not good," he mumbles.

He takes another look at the test results.

"This is really not good."

Reluctantly, Mark stood up.

He had news to deliver.

* * *

So, so, sooooo I think you should review and tell me what you think? Too over the top with the emotion? Yeah, probably. If it was bad, I apologize.


	21. An Announcement

This isn't a chapter & I'm sorry if you were looking forward to it, but this is just as important to me. On my page, I have two possible new stories for you guys to read from me. The summaries are there, along with the title. One's named: 'Ignorance Is Bliss', the other is 'Mind's Eye'. I'm really, really appreciate it if you'd take a look at those two then please vote on the poll for which one you'd rather see me write. Once I'm done with 'For Pleasure, For Pain' I want to jump right into a new story, but I've gotta know which one I should write.

So if you'd please go vote I'd mean the world to me.

And don't worry, I'm working on the final chapter of 'For Pleasure, For Pain' as we speak. It'll be up in a couple days. No later than the weekend.

Thank you!

-V.


	22. Chapter 22

_Author's Note: _Thank you to everyone who's been not only reviewing but reading this story as a whole. Thank you all so much for all the support you've been giving me as we've taken this journey. It was a pleasure writing this for you. And don't worry, there's more ideas in this crazy ol' head of mine, so I'll start writing any new ideas I have for you guys. In case you couldn't tell, this is the final chapter.

_Warning: _No warnings. Nothing. Just enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 21:**

Mark walked out his mini-medical office with his heart heavy. He paced the floor in front of the room before wiping his brow with unsteady hands. He sighed heavily and shook his head-reluctant. A second later he took in air, puffed his chest and entered the living room where Bobby and Dean sat. Earlier, Dean had tried to get some rest but they all pretty much knew that was pointless. Dean wasn't going to sleep, not until he was completely sure in his heart that Sam was okay and going to stay okay. Mark swallowed as his eye went from Dean and Bobby who sat on the couch unknowing of his presents and then to the television. They were watching some show. This woman was yelling at a man, calling him a liar and a killer. Mark shrugged, it didn't catch his interest.

Clearing his throat, Mark drew attention to himself. Both Dean and Bobby's head whipped backwards to the sudden noise. They both smiled a little, being startled. Mark raised his hands in innocence then he smiled himself. He took hold of the papers he was holding, squeezing them tighter. Dean took notice of that and gestured to the folded papers in his hand.

"What's that?"he questioned, suspicious.

Mark bit the inside of his lip.

"It's the test results," Mark replies emptily.

Both Bobby and Dean exchange glances then they fix on Mark, their eyes eager to hear the news. Dean stands, already walking toward Mark. He can see Dean's anxious and he hadn't even heard a thing yet. It was apparent that this was eating away at Dean. His conscious and his worry was probably the main reason he wasn't able to sleep, if you asked Mark. From what he could tell, Dean was always the one to expect the worse, even when he told someone that everything was going to be okay. He had taught himself that at a young age. Hope for the nest, but expect the worse, he'd always said. And he'd carried that with him through his whole life. And now it was getting the better of him. He couldn't sleep. All he could think of is what if there's something horribly wrong with Sam? What if he doesn't make it? What if those bastards gave him something? Dean couldn't stop it.

By now, Bobby was too standing. He was also eager to hear the news. To be honest, Mark was a little surprised to see what good relationship Bobby had with the boys. When Dean and John was a sleep, he'd go into Sam's room and sit with him. He'd tell him to keep fighting, and that he'll aways he here for him if he ever needed anything. Mark always smiled at that. But his relationship with Sam wasn't the only thing that impressed Mark about Bobby. No, the way he interacted with Dean was also a shock. He was shocked the see the way Sam confided in him when he had no one else to talk to. He talked more about his feeling with Bobby than he did with his father. That was interesting to Mark. It was unusual, Dean and John's relationship. With them, it only looked like they were comfortable with each other when John was giving instructions and Dean was following them; or when they were in the room with Sam. Other than that, their relationship seemed strained. Sometimes it was like they struggled to find something to talk about that wasn't Sam or hunting. It was like they didn't know anything else.

"Your father is still in the room with Sam, right?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah," he answered. "He's been in there forever. He said I needed a break. I tried to tell him that he needed one, too. I mean, Sam's asleep. And we'd know if he was awake... but my dad's stubborn- kinda like Sam. He tells me to take all the rest, but doesn't take any for himself." Dean laughed at his father's actions, knowing he'd be doing the same thing if the roles were reversed.

Mark gestured with his head down the hall to where John, Sam, and Austin were.

"I think we all need to talk," was the only thing Mark said as he began for the door.

Without hesitation, Dean and Bobby followed, eager to hear the news; good or bad.

Dean somehow along the way, passed Mark and was the first one to the door. He didn't knock, but he peeked his head in to make sure everything was okay.

"Mark has the test results," they hear Dean say to his father, his brother and Austin. They can hear the nervousness in his voice even though he's doing all he can to keep it steady.

A second later, he's waving them in. Dean immediately went to Sam's bed. He sat next to him, put his hand on his shoulder and looked at Mark. Dean and his father exchanged glances, then nodded at each other. Austin sat up, toward the end of the bed. Dean looked back at Austin and his heart twisted. He was sitting alone. He didn't have his family here to support him right now. He needed someone. So Dean, waved his hand at him, telling him to join them on the bed. Austin was reluctant at first, but Dean stood, took his wrist and brought him to Sam's bed. He may not know Austin too well, but he did know this: Austin was there for Sam when Sam had no one, so the least Dean could do was return the favor. For that week, Austin was Sam's family. He was the one who looked after him the best he could, so Dean could do the same. Right now, for this moment, Dean and Sam were Austin's brothers, and for now, John was his father. Austin needed a family.

Bobby walked over and posted himself behind John. He laid his hand on his shoulder, letting him know that he was there.

Mark shifted uneasily on his feet.

"Sam," he started. Just by that one word, everyone felt their heart speed up. Mark unfolded the paper in his hand, he clears his throat.

"As you know we're ran some tests on you..."

Dean and Sam glance at each other.

"...we tested you for STDs and HIV..."

John put his arm around Sam.

The doctor spoke in one fluent sentence, no stopping, but it seemed like every word he said lingered in the air.

"The result for your HIV test..."

Sam's hand found Dean's and held it tight.

"... the results came back negative. Sam, you don't have HIV."

Nobody moved. No cheer. Nothing. It was like they were all stunned. That was until John started crying. Then Sam. A and Dean shortly after. Dean turned,buried his head and Sam's shoulder and cried. "Thank God," was all he kept saying.

Mark cleared his throat. He wasn't finished.

"Although," he says a little loud, catching their attention.

Dean sat up.

"You did test positive for Sepsis."

Sam bit his lip. He didn't like the sound of that. Instantly, his eyes went to his father, then to Dean, trying to get a reaction out of their of them. But they didn't say anything. Their expression didn't change, so finally he spoke up.

"W-what's that?" he question, nervous about the answer.

"It's a blood infection," Mark stated. I can only assume that you got it from the bacteria on the whip that was used on you, or perhaps the chains and handcuffs that cut your wrist. There's a number of possibilities.

John wiped his eye, "Will he be okay? Is it life threatening?"

Mark was a little slow to answer. "It can be... but in his case, I don't think it is. Sam was only held there for a week, so it didn't really have time to set in. He's lucky."

"So... what do we have to do? How do we fix him?" Dean asked. He looked down, smiling at him quickly.

Approaching the bed, Mark took hold of Sam's arm. "See these?" he questioned pointed to the little red specks on Sam's arm. Everyone in the room seemed to nod. "Well, when I first saw them, I thought they were needle marks from the drugs he was given, but as time went on, I noticed that they were increasing, getting bigger- like Chicken Pox." He pointed to Sam. "Well, I went out on a whim and figured that it was most likely that he had Chick Pox already, so I ruled them out. And he wasn't scratching them. So along with the tests I ran for the STD's and the HIV, I checked for this. Y'know, just to be sure.

"Treating it should be simple, and easy," Mark continued. "I'd have to give him antibiotics for the rash forming on him. And some medicine for the fever. Alone with water, pain medication, and along with the IV and some few other medications to keep his immune system up, he should be good in no time."

Again, the small family rejoiced. John wrapped his arms around both his sons, smiling and crying at the same time. No one really knew how to feel.

"I do have one concern, though," Mark interrupted again. Dean looked at him.

"What?"

"... Sam's mental state. I mean- a blood infection can be cured with some medicine, but he can't fix his mind that easily."

John shrugged, understanding where the doctor was coming from. That, too, had been on his mind for a while. All he and Dean wanted to do was get Sam back to the old him, but they couldn't do that if he was afraid to sleep, if his nightmares were at fool blast, if he's having flashbacks, and afraid of people to get close. He needed to be reassure again that not everyone is trying to hurt him.

"So what do you suggest?" John asked.

Mark was uneasy. "Find the best psychologist in the area."

"I don't need no shrink. I'm not crazy-" Sam cut in, his voice firm and strong.

"Sam," John says, his warning tone coming to life. "We know you're not crazy, son. Trust me, we don't think that of you. But we just want you to get better. We want _all _of you to get better."

Sam was hesitant, but he finally nodded, resting his head on Dean's shoulder.

A silence came upon the room before Sam finally said, "What about Austin? Is he okay, too?"

Mark stopped, took a look at his papers and then looked at Austin.

"Austin," he says. "I'm sorry, you're HIV test came back positive."

There was a gasp.

Silence.

Eyes bulging.

Head's turning.

Then crying.

Austin fell forward, his face in the sheets on Sam's bed. They couldn't see his face, but his shoulders were shaking and his back was heaving.

Seconds passed.

Then a minute.

No one really knew what to do.

What do they say to this?

How do they even say anything?

Doing the first thing that came to his mind, Dean put his hand on Austin's back, rubbing small circles. Sam leaned forward, as much as his bruised ribs would allow and put his hand on Austin's shoulder.

"It'll be okay, Austin. I mean, we're here for you. Whatever you need. No matter what. You have us."

Austin didn't answer.

He couldn't speak.

But he sat up. His face was wet, soaked with tears, his eyes deep red, and his breathing was quick, he couldn't catch it.

Austin shook his head as he looked at Dean, then Sam, then John, then over to Bobby, and then finally at Mark. All of their eyes were watering, in fear for him, honestly worried for him. And that only made Austin cry more. He'd ever had that many people care for him before. It was just a great feeling - it was a shame that something this horrible had to happen for Austin to finally feel wanted.

Standing, Austin went for the door. He didn't know why, but he felt like he had to go. He viciously wiped his tears away, pushed Mark out the way and exited the room.

Dean looked back at his father and Sam before going after him.

"Austin!" he called.

But he didn't stop running. It didn't take too much effort, Dean caught him in the hallway. Dean took hold of his shoulder, and spun him around.

"Stop running, Austin. We wanna help you!"

Austin shook his head. He was speechless.

Dean's eyes and voice softened. "Let us help you... please?"

Austin blinked several times as the tears began to form again. He into Dean's arms nodding and crying. He hugged Dean. And Dean hugged his back.

"You're gonna get through this, okay?"

Austin just cried.

"I... uh, I didn't want to tell you. I wanted it to be a surprise... but I don't know anyway to try to make you feel better," Dean says softly.

Austin picks his head off Dean's shoulder.

He waits for him to continue.

"Your family is coming. Your mom and you little brother. They're coming for you. They should be here for your birthday... which is in two days, right?"

Nodding, Austin fell back into Dean's arm and cried again.

But this time it was a happy cry.

Finally, something was going right.

_-For Pleasure, For Pain-  
2 days later..._

The clock had just struck one o'clock in the afternoon. Austin sat on the couch, anxious. Dean was sitting right next to him. Sam had said he was feeling well enough, and John helped him to the living room,too. Bobby was outside waiting for Austin's family to arrive while Mark was in the kitchen, writing down everything that Austin will need to recover, hoping that everything will be alright.

Anxiously, Austin's foot tapped.

Sam shook his shoulder.

"You have nothing to be worried about, man."

Austin swallowed hard.

"What if they don't want me?"

Dean shook his head. "They wouldn't have said they were coming if they didn't want you. They missed you, Austin, just like you missed them."

"Yeah, but-"

"They're here!" Bobby called from outside.

Austin damn near jumped to his feet.

A minute later, a woman with dark hair and a boy who looked a little younger than Sam entered the house. Austin swallowed hard when he saw them walk in.

"Mom?" Austin says, talking a few steps toward them.

The woman nods, her eyes tearing.

"Mom?" Austin says again, but this time more sure of himself. He goes to her, wrapping his arms around her tight. Soon, he lets go and looks at his brother. They boy has a similar hair cut to Sam, except his hair was blond like Austin's.

"Jake, oh my God," Austin breathes, pulling the boy into a hug. "I've missed you so much."

Right after, all three were in a hug, crying, laughing, smiling, and gasping all at the same time. It was quite a sight.

Austin takes his mom and brother by the hand and walks them into the living room. He introduces them to everyone and they have a seat, but Austin calls Dean to the side.

Once they're alone in the kitchen, Austin holds out his hand for Dean to shake.

"I just wanted to say thank you," Austin says to him. "For... everything. You didn't have to get me out of that hell hole. You didn't have to take me here. You didn't have to give me shelter, or food and water, or give me medical treatment, but you did and I'll always be thankful for you and your family."

Dean nods at him.

"Right back at you, man. You didn't have to look after Sam like you did. But you chose to. You looked after him like it was your job or something. And for that, I'm always thankful for you. In more ways than one, I think you saved my brother's life. And... there's no way for me to thank you for that. There's nothing I can do to show you how appreciative I am of you. I can't thank you enough, really, I can't."

Austin shook his head. He looked back at his mom and brother sitting on the couch talking.

"You've given me all I could ask for."

Dean smiled.

"Hey, man, really, if you ever need anything- ever, just call. You know you have us, right?"

Austin nodded. "Of course."

Dean reached out, hugging Austin again. "Try not to go too far, okay?"

They both smiled.

"See you around, Dean."

Dean nodded. "You bet."

Then Austin walked away.

He watched as Austin rejoined his family in the living room. He watched as they all stood again and Austin began to hug everyone, thanking them for all they've done. But then he got to Sam, he could tell that it was the hardest goodbye. They talked for about a minute or so. But when Austin walked away, they both had tears in their eyes. In such a short time, they've really became good friends and it was hard to see him go.

Before he knew it, Austin and his family were out the door, reunited again.

Somehow, this ended in a way that Dean was okay with. For that whole week, Austin was pretty much Sam's big brother. He looked after him. But now Austin has his little brother back, and Dean has his.

It felt like they were starting over new. This whole tragedy had made them stronger as a family, and that was the greatest thing.

Dean smiled as he reentered the living room with his father, Bobby and Sam. He sat right in the middle, and he felt something. He felt warmth. He felt happiness. He felt hope.

And just by that, he knew that the worst was over, and somehow he knew that everything was going to be okay.

* * *

**FINISHED.**

Okay, so thoughts? It's the last chapter, please review. I'd love to hear what you think.


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